The Ballad of the Legends
by writer writing
Summary: It's 1830. Sister Ruth is exposed to the ugly side of fame as her reputation grows and someone is using Kid Cole's name to commit crimes. AU. Third in a series.
1. Chapter 1

Kid Cole and Sister Ruth were crossing the street to the hotel where they were staying when a thin, pale lady in her thirties suddenly fell down onto the dusty street and grabbed the hem of Ruth's skirt almost causing her to stumble.

Ruth was startled by it and so was Kid. He whirled Ruth away from the woman's grasp and demanded, "What in the world are you doing, lady?"

"I was only trying to be healed," the woman said, her tears creating trails on her dirt streaked face.

"Who am I? Jesus? Paul?" Ruth asked, alarm was still evident in her tone but it was also mingled with compassion. "My clothes hold no ability to heal."

"Please, Sister Ruth. Give me something that belongs to you. Just a fragment from your clothing. A button even. You won't miss it and I know I'll be healed."

"Jesus Christ is the healer. You have to have faith in Him, not me."

"But I'm desperate. I'm dying; I have to try it. I need healing now. I don't have time to wait on God."

"It just doesn't work that way. If you'll come—"

The woman didn't let her finish. She made a sudden, mad scramble to tear a piece of her clothing.

Kid, still holding onto Ruth, ran for the safety of the hotel. They beat the sick woman in because she had been on the ground and had to get up on her feet first to give chase.

They went quickly up to their room. From the window, they saw the woman being tossed out by one of the hotel staff. She screamed up at them and they moved away from the second story window to ensure they wouldn't be seen and add to her hysteria. Kid drew the curtain closed.

"Poor woman," said Ruth sadly. She dipped her handkerchief into a bowl of water and dabbed her neck both to cool and removed the grime caused by the dusty streets. "She just don't get it. That it's got nothing to do with me."

"Well, it's hard for me to have much sympathy for her when she acts like a crazy person, accosting people on the streets."

"I wish I could say that was the first time something like that's happened, but it ain't. She ain't the first to not understand faith healing, to think I'm more special than I am. A well-known name can be both a blessing and a curse."

It was a truth that Kid was well acquainted with. "Fame comes with a price."

August 1830

"Happy Anniversary, Ruth."

"Happy Anniversary, Kid."

"2 years," he said with a loving smile. "I'd wager there was some who thought we couldn't even make it a year because of our differences."

"Well, I guess we proved them wrong. These have been the happiest 2 years of my life."

"Mine too. If we were in town, I would take you out to a fancy restaurant to celebrate." They were somewhere out in Missouri not far from St. Louis. In fact, they'd probably reach it the following day if the map they were using could be trusted. It certainly wouldn't be today as stars began to appear one by one in the sky.

"I don't care about fancy restaurants. All I want is you," Ruth said, putting a hand on his knee and making circles evocatively.

He reached beside him and opened up his guitar case. He pulled out 2 glass goblets and handed one of them to her.

"Where in the world did you get these?" she asked with big eyes.

"I've got my ways," he said mysteriously. He poured a dark brown, steaming liquid into the cups.

"What is it?" she asked. She'd seen him messing around by the fire while she pulled out their quilts and got their horses situated, but she hadn't known what he was doing.

"Tea. I am trying to take advantage of you, but not with alcohol," he teased.

She grinned and took a sip. "Chicory tea. Not bad. I just can't believe you made it yourself." Then she asked, "They're not very practical, are they? The goblets, I mean. How long can they last in a bumpy wagon?"

"Long enough to finish our tea," he said with a smile. Then he kissed her soundly, making her forget about everything else but him. Their glasses of tea remained unfinished on the ground as he lowered her down onto the quilts.

sss

St. Louis, a gateway to the west, was a thriving city with stores and banks lining its streets and the population numbering in the thousands. Plenty of steamboats were docked in its port, the secret of its recent success, and men of various races could be seen loading or unloading them in the distance.

"We're down to next to nothing. We need flour, salt, sugar, and a whole host of other things," Kid said.

She checked the small wooden box where they kept their money. "Not many cash donations lately. We got a 5 dollar bill from Frankfort Kentucky and a dime and that's it."

"No worries. I'll check the wanted posters. A town of this size is bound to have a few outlaws to nab."

Kid pulled their wagon to a stop in front of one of the banks, seeing a collection of posters hanging on the outside of the building. He helped Ruth down and they went over to look at them.

"100 dollar reward for the return of three negro slaves. A man, woman, and a small child," Kid read.

There was more on the poster, but Ruth interrupted. "Not that one."

"Wouldn't dream of it and according to their descriptions, the child if examined will be found to have swelling. No wonder they ran."

Ruth bowed her head and prayed silently for their escape while Kid continued to look through the posters. "I don't believe this."

"What?" she said, eyes opening and looking for the poster he was speaking of.

He read the poster to her. "250 dollar reward for Kid Cole. A tall man of thin frame with the manners of a gentleman. Wears dark clothing and a flour sack over his head while committing robberies but is described by those who have seen him without it as having dark brown eyes, black hair, and thick brows. Wanted for robbing stagecoaches. Take care when apprehending him as he is known for his fast draw."

Ruth knew her mouth was hanging open, not very ladylike, but she was as shocked as he was.

"I've never robbed a stagecoach in my life," Kid said. "It's just not possible."

"Well, looky what we have here," said a voice from behind them.


	2. Chapter 2

"Kid Cole in the flesh," the man continued. He was rough-looking. His face was scarred from too many fights and his hair hadn't seen scissors or razors in quite a while. Yet, he wore a friendly smile.

"Matt Harris," Kid said, returning a smile.

Ruth, meanwhile, snaked her hand up to the poster and ripped it down from the brick wall and folded it behind her back, slipping the paper into her Bible as casually as she could. She didn't know if this man would turn him in, but she wasn't planning on taking any chances.

"I didn't know you were back. Why don't you come grab a drink?" Matt asked.

"I don't drink anymore."

He seemed surprised by Kid's reply but then he recovered. "What does that matter? I know Camille would like to see you," he said with a suggestive grin and a raise of his eyebrows.

"That's not a good idea either. Have I introduced you to my wife, Mrs. Cole?" He held his hand out toward Ruth, in case he had missed her, putting a special emphasis on wife.

His look was one of pure confusion. He glanced briefly at her and then his eyes went back to Kid. "What's happened to you? What's gone and took the fun out of you?"

"I found out what real fun is, lasting fun. I found God or I should say He found me."

"You went and got religion," he said, the tone implying he would've been better off contracting something less harmful like cholera or bubonic plague.

"We can still talk. I wouldn't mind catching up with you."

"Forget it. If I wanted to talk to a parson, I could find one easy enough," he muttered and went on his way.

Given Matt's sudden cooling towards Kid, she was glad she had decided to hide the poster.

Kid just humphed and shook his head. "Looks like you lose some friends when you change your direction."

"You do and the sad thing is it's them that do the leaving. Something about God makes them uncomfortable."

"Well, I guess we better get situated before nightfall."

They paid to board the horses and wagon at the livery and then paid for a room at a hotel.

"So who was this Camille?" Ruth asked as she took off her cloak in their room. She was trying to sound casual and calm, but it had been on her mind since the name was mentioned.

"Just a friend," he said while he checked the bed for signs of pests as it wasn't the finest-looking hotel he'd ever seen.

"A good friend?"

He didn't want to lie to her. He knew what she was asking. He walked up to her and took both of her hands in his. "Yes, at one time."

"I see." Ruth couldn't deny it bothered her. First there was Carla and now Camille. Just how many of these old friends did he have? One for every town?

"It's you I love. You're the only woman I've ever wanted to marry."

She believed him, but that didn't make Camille a whole lot easier to digest. Still, she was determined not to be jealous. She pulled away and took the poster out of her Bible, changing the subject to the more pressing issue. "This worries me. You ought to lie low until we leave."

"Too much to do. I'm going to go buy some of the more immediate supplies we need and then I'll see if I can't find a better prospect among the posters. Though I suppose I could turn in myself in."

"You're very funny," she said dryly, not thinking it was a laughing matter at all. "Somebody's hiding behind your name and trying to make it your neck in a noose. That don't bother you?"

"Well, it's not like my reputation was all that shining to begin with."

"But you weren't breaking no laws. What if one of your old pals tries to turn you in for the reward? Like Matt?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. In the meantime, I'll see if I can find out more about these robberies. Try not to worry. I'm not going to go shouting my name from the rooftops and that description they gave could fit any number of men."

"Well, let me go with you then."

"I'll find out more if I'm alone. Some men don't open up easy with a lady around."

"You're going in the saloon, ain't you?" she asked disapprovingly.

"There's no better place to pick up information of that nature."

She didn't look thrilled, but he made good points. "I guess I'll go find the churches and let them know we're having a revival tomorrow after I scout out a suitable place."

"St. Louis is a big place. I'm not sure I like the idea of you wandering around it alone."

"It's safer for me right now than you. I'll be fine if I stick to where there's plenty of people around. Besides, most are kind of leery about messing with a woman carrying a Bible and I'll be back here before dark."

Kid found he couldn't argue with that reasoning either. "Just be alert."

They went downstairs together and saw that a crowd was pressed around the outside of the hotel, looking as if they were waiting on somebody to come out.

"Apparently you have a lot of friends I don't know about in St. Louis," Ruth said.

"I don't know these people," Kid replied.

"I was just kidding. Must be somebody important staying like the president. Imagine if we were under the same roof as the president of the United States." There was no hero worship in her voice just amusement.

"I'm sure we would've heard about it if he was."

The crowd parted for them but only so far before it enclosed around them. By the time they realized they were the ones they'd been waiting on, their way of escape was gone. They couldn't move forwards or backwards. They were trapped in a sea of people and hands reached out touching Ruth.

"Sister Ruth! Heal me!" "Touch me!" Frantic, pleading voices cried.

It felt like some kind of nightmare, only the crushing of bodies proved it was no dream. Kid did his best to shelter her with his body and they pushed through the crowd, making a way where there was none.


	3. Chapter 3

They managed to make it out of the mass of people and were able to take off running. Kid and Ruth ducked in an alley and the crowd went by without seeing them.

"Are you okay?" Kid asked, out of breath and bruised.

"I think so," she answered, also out of breath. "How in the world did they know who I was?"

"We've been traveling along side the Mississippi. Word must've traveled up and down the river about you. After all, we've been doing this for over a year now. It ain't everyday a genuine faith healer comes to town. With Sister Ruth's Revival written out as plain as day on the wagon, it ain't too hard for people to put two and two together."

"No, I reckon not," she said, still seeming dazed.

"I'll sneak you back into the hotel," he said, taking her arm. "They must have a back door for the staff."

"I'm not going to be a prisoner over that foolishness. I'm going around to the churches like I said before."

His brows furrowed in anger. "I don't want to argue. You could have been seriously injured just now."

"It was scary, but they didn't really want to hurt me. They just wanted to be healed. They went about it the wrong way, but we've lost them. I'll meet you at the end of the street in about an hour or so and we'll go back in together."

"You are stubborn," he said with a frustrated sigh.

She got on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "That's why you love me."

His lips twitched from trying to hold back a smile. "I'm sure that's not the reason. Fine, have it your way, but if you're not back in exactly an hour, expect to be tied up and locked up for the remainder of our time in St. Louis."

She gave his forearm a gentle squeeze and then hurried off on her errands.

She got Carmel from the livery and rode to find a good spot for the revival. Locating a nice little meadow and ensuring the land didn't belong to nobody but the city, she set off in search of churches next.

She came to a brick church first. She wished they'd arrived on a Sunday. It was easiest to get the news out when a service was being held, but it looked as if someone might be in there.

A knock brought a black man with a receding hairline to the door. "Welcome to First African Baptist Church. I'm John Meachum. Can I help you?"

She gathered from his dress and his being at the church that he was the pastor. "You may, reverend. I'm Ruth Cole, but you can just call me Sister Ruth."

I've heard about you. My guess is you're looking for folks to attend your revival."

"You guessed it."

"Most of my congregation is enslaved. They got permission from their masters to come to church on Sundays, but revivals are out of the question."

"I guess they would be. What a sad situation."

He seemed a little surprised that she sympathized. "Yes, it is."

"Well, if it's alright with you, I'll come here on Sunday then."

"That's nice of you," he said, seeming surprised again. "When's your first revival?" he asked.

"Tomorrow at 4:00." She gave him directions to the spot she had picked out. "Probably run a week or two depending on how the Lord moves. Are you coming?"

"Plan on it and so will my family. There are some also some freemen I can let know about it and I have some slaves I'll let attend."

"That you'll let attend? You own slaves?"

"I know it seems strange a negro man owning other negroes, but you see they're learning a trade at my factory during the time that I have them. Then when they've earned enough to purchase their own freedom, they can support themselves."

It made sense. "It sounds like you're doing good work, brother. I'm interested in learning more about your ministry."

"As I am in learning about yours, sister. See you tomorrow then."

"I'll be there," she said with a smile.

The next church she rode to was Our Lady of Mount Carmel. It sat on a hill and wasn't as fancy as the other Catholic churches she had been to. The priest lived there and so she found him at home.

"I'm Ruth Cole or Sister Ruth as I prefer to be called, Father. I'd like to invite you and your church members to my revival."

Sometimes she felt like she had a label that read crazy somewhere on her person from the way and the length he stared at her.

The priest at last recovered his voice. "I can't in good conscience tell my parishioners to go to some protestant service. The bishop would have my head."

She could see at a glance that he wouldn't be moved on the subject. "Well, have a good night then, brother. God bless you."

"God bless you," he returned.

There were no doubt more churches to try where she might have more success, but the sun was sinking lower, telling her that her hour was almost up. She definitely didn't want to get to the hotel after dark as Kid would hit the roof if she was late.

sss

Kid took a deep breath. It would be the first time he'd entered a saloon since Santa Fe, since before he turned his life over to Christ. He went inside before he changed his mind.

He was immediately bowled over by the atmosphere. Had it always been this dreary in here? This wicked? It hadn't seemed so then. Now he felt suffocated by it.

He forced himself to go up to the bar and take a seat.

"What can I get you to drink?" the bartender asked.

"Nothing for me. Thanks."

"That's unusual." He smiled. "Came here for the company, then?"

"It does get a mite lonely moving from place to place."

He agreed and then moved to another customer.

Kid sat there with his back turned, picking up snatches of conversation and avoiding eye contact with the skimpily dressed women milling around the place. He heard nothing of interest so far.

He turned to the man beside him with a half empty glass. "You heard of those stagecoach robberies in the area? I was thinking of taking one, but I hear some guy is putting a sack on his head and holding them up."

"I heard that too. A man in here earlier was saying he was on the stagecoach that Cole fellow robbed."

Kid was excited to have success so soon and was about to ask where he could find this man now, but he stiffened when he heard a familiar laugh behind him. He'd known Camille would be here, a fact he had neglected to tell Ruth, but he had hoped that he wouldn't see her all the same. He couldn't keep himself from stealing a glance.

Her complexion was as flawless as ever; it practically glowed. Her eyes were an interesting cross between blue and green. Her perfectly shaped brown eyebrows raised in surprise for a moment as she caught sight of him and then a smile widened her heart shaped face. She immediately came over.

"Kid! You are very naughty to stay away so long," she informed him in a French accent.

He was almost positive her accent was phony. It had amused him before, now it just grated on his nerves. "I haven't come to see you."

"You have a new favorite lover?" she asked, her pouty lips becoming poutier.

He smiled as he thought of Ruth. "You could say that."

"Well, I will steal you back," she told him with a toss of her head, the gesture reminding him of his and Ruth's yearling, Grace.

"I'm married."

She shrugged. "A shame to be sure, but most of my companions are married. What does it matter?"

"What matters is that I'm married to the greatest woman I've ever known. I would never do anything to hurt her and I'm trying to follow God's commands now, and frankly, I'm not sure why you ever attracted me."

"So high and mighty now, are we?" she asked in an offended tone. "It so happens that I own this place now and I can have you thrown out." She looked to a bulky man in the corner and gestured toward Kid.

"No need, ma'am," he said, standing up. "I can see myself out."

Camille held up a hand to stop the man and she walked Kid to the door.

"You may come back when you are ready to make up with me," she said to him, sounding so irritatingly sure he would be back.

"When there's winter in hell," he muttered. He supposed he could have let her down more gently, but he meant every word he had said.

He stopped once he crossed the street. He had to find out who had been on the stagecoach. However, he hung around only a few minutes before Camille's goon came out; apparently she wasn't even going to let him be in the vicinity. He decided to call it a day. He was eager to check up on Ruth anyway.

**Historical Note: John Meachum was a real historical figure.**


	4. Chapter 4

A hand touched Ruth's shoulder as she waited and she jumped but was quickly relieved to see that it was only Kid.

"At least you have the good sense to be jumpy," he said.

"But you don't have the good sense not to sneak up on a person." Her heartbeat returning to a normal rate, she said, "I took a peek. They've congregated around the door again."

"We'll try the back."

They found the staff entrance and knocked. The door led to the kitchen and fortunately there was someone to open the door for them.

"Thank you for opening the door," Ruth said.

"You're welcome," the slightly overweight cook replied. "I saw what went on earlier." She ladled out bowls of vegetable soup and gave generous cuts of crusty bread. "Why don't ya'll take this upstairs with you and eat. That way folks won't be tempted to bother you."

"That's kind of you, ma'am," Kid said, taking the food. "If there's anything we can for you, just let us know."

"Actually there is. I have this 3 year old niece who—"

"Just bring her to the revival," Kid said, cutting her off.

"Kid," Ruth said sternly in a low voice. "He got up on the wrong side of bed today; you'll have to forgive him. Of course, I'll see your niece. Just remember I ain't a miracle worker. All I can do for her is remind her how much God loves her and pray for her. It's in God's hands."

"I understand and thank you, ma'am," the cook said.

Out in the hall, Ruth said, "What's got you acting like a grizzly bear?"

"Folks aren't treating you right. They're acting like you're some sort of good luck charm put on this earth to get them better. I don't like it."

"Maybe to some of the folks outside, but she seemed nice and she gave us this soup. I understand that it's been a surprising and harrowing day, but you did ask her if we could do anything after all."

"You're right. I'll apologize when I see her again."

As they ate up in their room, Kid pulled out a small box from inside his pocket. "I didn't get a chance to go to the general store, but when I saw this, I knew I had to get it for you."

"Why'd you get me a present?"

"Because I love you. Do I have to have a reason?" he asked.

She gave him a small smile. "I guess not." She opened the small box to find a lovely white lace handkerchief.

"Imported from Ireland," he said though he knew she wouldn't be impressed by the information, but she would love it because he gave it to her. "I know how you like lace."

She leaned across the small nightstand that was doubling as a table for the moment and thanked him with a kiss.

"Found a promising poster too," he informed her. He was really more intent on finding the man masquerading as him, but an easy catch would come in handy right now, giving them the funds to travel on.

"I also saw Camille when I went to the saloon," he confessed. Before she had a chance to react, he rushed to add, "I made it clear to her that she was my past and you are my present and future. You do know it's a past I'm not very proud of, don't you?"

"I know. Did you learn anything?" she asked, keeping her composure and glad that he had told the truth though not so glad he had seen an old paramour.

"Not much. Camille threw me out because I spurned her advances. She's the madame now."

"You mean she owns the girls there?"

"In a manner of speaking. And the business, which comes with drinking and gambling. She's doing quite well for herself in some ways."

Sopping up the last of the soup with the last of her bread, she said, "If we need to leave for any reason, then we should. I don't want to stay St. Louis at your expense."

"Since when do you let men dictate your comings and goings? Besides, wouldn't you rest easier knowing I'd caught the one truly responsible for the robberies? St. Louis is the place to do that."

"Well, of course I would, but what about Camille? Or Matt? You think they're capable of turning you in? They do have reasons to now."

They heard voices going by the door.

"I heard that Sister Ruth is staying here."

"No fooling? What do you think she's really like?"

"My cousin said she…"

They didn't hear the rest of the conversation because they'd gone out of hearing range.

Kid smiled. "What is it you called me back when first met, a living legend? Seems like I ain't the only living legend around here anymore."

"I didn't want to make a name for myself. I wanted everyone to realize how wonderful God is." She sounded fretful.

"God knows that," he said, removing his shirt as he got into bed.

She hadn't changed yet, but she sat down on her side of the bed. "You didn't answer my question from earlier. Will they turn you in?"

"I want to forget about Matt and Camille and just enjoy my sweet wife's company," he said, unbuttoning the front of her dress for her.

"You won't be able to forget if the law is pounding on the door in the morning or even tonight," she said sharply though a bit unsteadily as his hands were caressing her chest through the thin fabric of her chemise.

His lips found her neck, calming her against her will. "I'll shoot our way to safety if I have to. Nothing could keep me from being with you. Not even the law."

"That doesn't reassure me," she murmured in his ear before succumbing and rubbing her bottom lip across his bristly cheek.

"Give me a chance and I'll do my best to try and convince you before the night's through," he promised.

sss

He was still sleeping when she woke up the next morning.

She got dressed and left a note for him telling him that she would meet him back at the hotel for lunch.

Breakfast was also provided. She grabbed a quick bite before other people started milling downstairs. She'd had better eggs, but she couldn't complain too much since she hadn't had to fix it herself and it had been a coon's age since she'd gotten to eat them.

"There's a letter for Mr. Cole," the proprietor informed her when she passed by his desk.

Ruth cringed, hoping no one had heard that. They should have signed in under false names but then Kid had stayed here before and was recognized by the man. "I'll make sure he gets it," she said as she took it from him.

It was heavily perfumed and written in a lady's flowery script. She had no qualms about opening the letter for Kid once she was out of the hotel owner's sight, especially if it was from who she thought it was from.

'Meet me in my room and we will share more memories together. I will leave the window cracked for you. Your Maîtresse, Camille'

Ruth wasn't sure what the French word meant but she was certain it wasn't friend.

A crowd still waited at the front of the hotel. She hoped this wouldn't become the norm. How could a person live like this?

"Did you enjoy breakfast?" the cook asked as she came through the kitchen.

"I did and supper was excellent. I hope you will bring your niece soon."

"I'd bring her to the revival, but she's awful shy. She'd get upset and start crying and make her condition worse."

"I understand and Kid does too. If you can bring her to the hotel this evening, we'll see what God will do."

"I will, ma'am," she said with a wide smile.

"Please, Sister Ruth."

"Sister Ruth," she echoed, her smile growing wider.

Before she made her rounds to the other churches, she wanted to take care of Camille. She found the saloon easy enough on an unsavory street. Fortunately, the street wasn't at its rowdiest this early in the day. Things wouldn't really get under way until the evening.

Ruth located the target by her superior air. She was also a little fancier dressed compared to the other women. She was pretty. Ruth hadn't expected to look like an old hag, but it didn't keep the knowledge from being painful.

"Have another whiskey for me," she was saying to a customer, batting her long eyelashes coyly.

And a man old enough to be the woman's father paid for another drink that he clearly didn't need.

"You Camille?" Ruth asked just to be sure.

"I am. Looking for a job?"

"Looking for you."

"Oh?" she said, looking almost bored.

"I came to tell you to leave Kid alone. He doesn't want to hear from you and I don't want you bothering him."

Camille suddenly grew interested and eyed her up and down. "You're the one he married?" She laughed. "And here I thought I had something to worry about."

"You do if you continue to pester him," she warned.

"What a perfectly rustic manner of speech. Kid went for that countrified charm, did he?"

"At least, I come by it honestly. Your accent sounds a little forced to me."

She smiled nastily. "Which proves that your education is lacking. By the way, lemon juice will clear those freckles right up. A little trick of the trade."

Ruth flushed partly with embarrassment and partly with anger. "Who says I want to be rid of them?"

"I just assumed that you're interested in doing everything you can to keep Kid happy because he didn't look like he's happy to me last night."

"Well, of course not. He came in to talk to some friends and you threw him out before he had a chance to do anything."

"Is that what he told you? Men, they're all alike," she said with a shake of her head. "He spent the time in my arms. He left alright but with a smile on his face, which is more than he had when he came in."

"You're a liar," Ruth accused, not believing her for a minute.

"Am I? I bet he bought you a gift to lessen his guilt."

Her hand reached into her pocket, fingering the lace on the handkerchief. She still didn't believe it.

"There are many dying to bed him," she said, dropping the French accent to communicate the honesty in this statement. "Women are drawn by his name alone: the power, the mystery, the darkness. How long do you think you can hold him?"

She had never thought of it in that way before; she had only thought of Kid leaving that part of his life behind him, but would his past let him leave? Women would throw themselves at him based on his name alone. How could he stand up to the temptation? She schooled her features, hoping the woman hadn't glimpsed her worries. "I'm not talking about other women, I'm talking about you. Leave him be."

"He doesn't know you're down here, does he? You better hurry off before he discovers his good little wife is hanging around with soiled doves and you suddenly lose your appeal."

Ruth had had enough of this woman and she spun on her heels and stormed toward the door. "Breathe, Pray," she reminded herself under her breath as she clutched her Bible close to her.

It suddenly occurred to her that Kid hadn't been the intended target of that note, she had. Ruth suddenly felt just the teeniest bit sorry for the woman. Camille was lashing out at her, trying to make her suspicious, because she'd lost Kid to her.

She forced herself to turn back around and it did take some effort even with the small iota of sympathy she had gained. "Would you come to the revival we're holding today at 4:00? It's down past that little stone farmhouse just outside of St. Louis."

"Revival?" she echoed as if she had said a foreign word.

"Kid will be there. I know he'd be happy to see you." She left on that note, feeling better in the leaving this time. A part of her hoped that she would be there and a part of her hoped that she wouldn't, but she felt like God had asked it of her and so she had done her part. The rest was up to Camille.


	5. Chapter 5

Kid was pacing when Ruth made it back to the hotel room.

"Your friend left you a note," she told him, handing him the letter.

He took it, but he didn't read it. "I wish you had woken me up before you left. You know how worried I was about you?"

"I'm sorry, honey. You knew I had to let the other churches know about the revival."

"Doesn't keep me from worrying," he muttered. He read the note and then crumpled it, throwing it in the fireplace without comment.

She gazed into the small circular mirror straining to see her reflection in the wavy, dark glass. The freckles managed to appear as plain as day though, at least in her own mind. Ruth didn't consider herself a vain person. Looks didn't matter. It was the soul that did, but since the run-in with Camille, she felt overly self-conscious.

He came up behind her. His arms slid around her waist and his chin rested on top of her head. "What are we doing? Admiring your beauty?" When that didn't bring the intended smile, he asked, "You went to see Camille, didn't you?"

"I shouldn't have. It's not that I don't trust you. I just hate that she's trying to get at you this way. I really am covered in freckles, ain't I?"

"Yep, and I love each and every speckle. It's cute. You're cute."

"But I'm not as pretty as Camille." She wasn't fishing for compliments; she was simply stating a fact.

"No, you're prettier, but I didn't fall in love with your body as nice as it is. I fell in love with you."

"I know." She turned away from the mirror. "I invited her to the revival."

"You what?" he asked, not sure he had heard her right.

"I invited her to the revival," she repeated.

He laughed. He couldn't help it. Ruth wasn't afraid to broach anybody about God, not even one of his ex-lady friends. "What'd she say?"

"She didn't say anything. I don't know if she'll be there or not, but I couldn't not invite her. It'd be wrong."

He shook his head in wonder. "You beat all."

sss

Ruth noticed when Camille slipped in long past 4, catching only the tail end of the sermon during which she gave exaggerated yawns. Ruth did her best to ignore it, but that woman did have a way of getting under her skin, which was something people didn't manage very often with her.

After the service, Kid saw Camille coming toward him. He probably should have avoided her, he thought, but he didn't. "So you came," he said instead.

"I wanted to see what this religion stuff was all about and I just don't get it," she said, shaking her head in just the right way to cause her self-made curls to bounce prettily. "Why did you choose this over free living?"

"Because it wasn't free. And you can't get it. Not until you experience it for yourself."

"And how do I experience it?" she asked, exposing the white of her neck and talking huskily.

She was flirting more than being truly interested in the answer, but he answered her anyway. "You have to trust God with everything. Repent, which means confessing and then turning from your sin."

She grew cold, dropping the sultry act. "Well, that's not going to happen. Besides, even if I did, it would not matter. You can't go back once you're ruined."

"That's not true. I was able to change my life."

"It's different for a woman. Men can sow their wild oats and then go on to lead a normal life, but once you're a fallen woman, you're always a fallen woman. Look at you. You didn't settle down with someone like me. You chose a respectable, unblemished woman."

"Because I loved her. If she'd had a past, it wouldn't have mattered to me."

"You say that, but you don't mean that. You may think you do, but people will always look down their nose at women like me."

"Not the ones that matter and God won't most importantly. To Him, you're His precious child."

She scoffed. "At first, I thought this religion stuff was an act for your wife's benefit, but you really do believe it. She has you convinced. That's even sadder."

She looked as if she had more she wanted to say, but when she saw Ruth coming over, she took off like a scalded dog.

"You must have affected her more than she lets on because she ain't the type to run from a confrontation," Kid told Ruth.

"It's not me she's running from," Ruth observed astutely.

"Maybe so."

The black preacher walked over to them.

"This is John Meachum, the fellow I was telling you about yesterday," Ruth said. "John, this is my husband, Kid."

His eyes widened momentarily with surprise. "Not Kid Cole? I check the wanted notices, looking for runaway slave notices. You got a stagecoach company looking for you."

"It's not true," Ruth said. "Someone's impersonating him. He ain't never robbed a stagecoach a day in his life."

"I figured as much. A fellow ain't going to go to the trouble of covering his head and then let it slip so easy who he is. I won't say nothing."

"Appreciate it," Kid said. "You wouldn't know anything else about it, would you?"

"No more than is in the wanted notice," he answered. "Sorry. Wish I could help." He turned to Ruth. "Beautiful service, ma'am. I look forward to seeing you Sunday and I'm sorry that some of our folks coming caused some of your folks to leave."

"If their heart's so hardened toward their fellow human beings, their hearts are hardened toward God as well. Likely the sermon wouldn't have helped them overly much and it would have been a hindrance when they tried to receive healing."

"You got a point there," he said with a smile. "See you Sunday."

The field emptied of people now, they started putting the benches away.

They were putting the last bench in the back of the wagon when they heard the click of a hammer on a gun.

"Move a muscle without my say so and I'll pull the trigger," warned a gruff voice.

"Let my wife go," Kid said as calmly as he could under the circumstances. He didn't fear for his own life, but he feared for hers.

"I don't want nothing with her. Just you. You know it's a shame you ain't wanted dead or alive, so I could just shoot you and be done with it. Instead I got to haul your carcass alive to the stage company. So get moving before I decide you ain't worth the money, and just remember a shot to the leg ain't going to lower the reward none."

Ruth started to open her mouth, but Kid shook it, warning her not to do or say anything. She watched helplessly as Kid was herded back toward St. Louis by the barrel of a gun and a grizzly old man.


	6. Chapter 6

She followed them to the small, ramshackle house where the old man must have lived. She thought about going to the authorities if there were any authorities to be had here, which she doubted, but if she did, they'd be on Kid's captor's side.

As she stepped onto the porch. narrowly missing a hole caused by the rotted wood, she heard the old man grumbling from inside, "St Louis needs a jail. It ain't going to be easy carting you all the way to Franklin just to collect my reward. Take me a week at least. They ought to have to come to me."

She boldly knocked on the door and he answered the door.

"You got the wrong man," she said immediately before he could get a word in edgewise. "I know for a fact that he was with me further south while these robberies were happening. It couldn't have been him no matter what that wanted poster says."

"Sorry, gal. I'd like to oblige by letting him go, but it don't much matter to me whether he done it or not. I'm interested in the money. As you can tell, I'm in sore need of it. The way I see it this was a gift."

"At least let me see him, speak to him," she pleaded.

His frown lessened to a grim line. "I ain't so hardhearted that I won't let a wife say goodbye to her husband. I know they'll likely hang him."

A strangled cry escaped her throat. She'd expected as much but to hear him say it made it so much more real.

A guilty look crossed his face and he explained, "People can abide a lot of things out here, but thievery ain't one of them. We're not exactly crawling with sheriffs out here what with the sparse population and it being such a hazardous occupation. How else is folks going to protect their property?"

"But don't it matter if they actually done it? In their rush to justice, have they hung innocent people? Do they even get a fair trial?"

"I'm sure they have and I'm sure they get a trial. How fair it is would depend on the jury and judge, I imagine. I know that seems harsh to a lady's ears, but that's the way it is, pure and simple."

"Simple maybe, but it ain't pure. Where is he?"

He pointed toward the only other room in the house and when she came through the doorway saw that he was tied to a chair. She rushed over, throwing her arms around him and sobbing onto his shoulder. He tilted his head so that it rested against hers, not free to return the embrace though it was clear he yearned to.

"Don't worry," he said. "Ain't it you who's always telling me God's got everything under control. Well, this situation ain't any different, is it?"

"No, of course not," she said with firm resolve. She ran her hands down his face as if trying to commit it to memory. "Don't mean I'm going to sit back and do nothing neither. The Lord empowers us."

Kid didn't like the sound of that. "I'll think of something. I'd rather you not get mixed up in this."

"Mixed up? I'm already mixed up in it. You're my husband."

"Just don't do anything dangerous. I won't be able to help you if you run into trouble."

"The Lord will keep me out of trouble. He'll help us both. I know He will."

Kid wished he could be as sure of it as she seemed to be.

The old man had been watching the scene, making sure she didn't try to release him. He looked as if he was close to caving and letting Kid go but then realizing he was in danger of letting the profit go with him, he hardened and said, "Hurry it up now. I got things to do to get ready for the trip."

It was useless to waste her breath on asking to give them a few moments alone. He wouldn't take his eyes off his prize and take a chance on losing it.

Ruth kissed Kid softly with a tender passion that communicated her sorrow and love.

"I don't mind being tied up with you kissing me but I wish it had been under different circumstance," he whispered teasingly in her ear after the kiss, aching to see her smile.

It brought a small, fleeting smile to her lips.

"If we don't get a chance to talk again—" he said, growing suddenly serious.

"Kid—" she interrupted.

"I want you to know how much I love you," he said, ignoring her protest. "You're my first and only love and you always will be."

Her eyes shimmered. "I love you too, but we will talk again," she said, her tone saying she would allow no argument on that score.

"Okay, missy, time for you to get going," ordered the old man from the corner.

Ruth nodded almost having forgotten he was there. "Can I at least know your name in case I need to find you later?"

"Bill Morris."

"I'm Ruth Cole."

"I know. I saw the wagon and you did day Mr. Cole was your husband."

"Right. You are going to feed him, ain't you?"

"I ain't going to bring him to Franklin starving. Rest assured he's in safe hands till I hand him over as long as he don't try anything funny."

She left hardly assured, knowing Kid would try to get away, but she was glad she had a week reprieve to think of something. It was late by the time she made it back to the hotel. She went to her room without supper. She was certain the cook would have insisted on scrounging something up despite the dining hour having long passed, but she wasn't hungry and only saw one of the kitchen help scrubbing dishes when she went by.

She fell to her knees as soon as she shut the door, suddenly overwhelmed by the events. "Oh, Lord, help us. If the stage company gets him, they're only going to care that they've got Kid Cole. They ain't going to believe it's someone entirely and they're going to hang him. We need you. Kid needs you."

She didn't feel like going to bed either but being in a fog from lack of sleep wasn't going to help him. It was long time of studying the ceiling, but at some point, she fell into a fitful sleep.

She reached out subconsciously once, expecting to feel him there, and woke when she didn't. She sighed heavily and then suddenly like a bolt of lightening had struck her brain, she knew exactly whose help she needed.


	7. Chapter 7

It wasn't the safest time of day to be on the street she found herself with the sun not quite up, if there was such a thing as a safe time to be in this section of town. She couldn't erase the feeling that she was somehow being watched either, whether it was her imagination or a real reason to worry she couldn't say, but she was glad when the saloon came into sight.

As she was about to walk into Camille's place of business, she bumped into a gentleman on his way out. He didn't look like the type to frequent this part of town with his fine clothes and the way he seemed to carry himself, but then brothels, saloons, and gambling dens drew all sorts of men from leading citizens with money to throw away to the unknowns who scraped what little they had together to waste it on their vices.

He started to reprimand her but than recognition dawned. "You're not that evangelist woman, are you?"

"I am. Sorry I knocked into you. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I got a lot on my mind." She didn't mention the fact that he hadn't been minding where he was going either.

"Well, you can bet my daughter won't be attending anymore of your revivals. Bit of a hypocrite, aren't you?"

"So you object to people who associate with women of ill repute?"

"I most certainly do and so would any self-respecting person, especially a lady who purports to be of the cloth."

"Then what were you doing in there?"

He turned red and sputtered, "That's none of your affair."

"I suppose you don't much like Jesus' company either, do you?"

"How dare you try to twist this around. That isn't the same thing at all."

"No? But He was a friend of prostitutes and other objectionable people. Ain't we called to be like Him? To reach out to the unrighteous that they may know righteousness?"

"People just don't feel that way whatever your twisted logic. But I'm going to make sure this makes it into the Missouri Gazette, so other young ladies don't get drawn into your web of deception."

"Your threat don't worry me, but if it makes you feel any better, I'm leaving St. Louis today for a time."

"Good, but don't think that's going to keep the story from running. I got friends on the paper. Good day, madam."

"Good day to you, sir," she returned politely. Then she dismissed the conversation with a shake of her head and hurried in.

Camille was surrounded by a crowd of men, laughing as if she had just heard the funniest thing ever.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" Ruth asked.

"You can talk to me anytime you want," said one of the men crassly.

Another man nudged him. "Hush. Can't you tell that's a lady from the way she's dressed."

"Won't be a lady long if she sticks around here," he replied, bringing on another chorus of laughter led by Camille.

"Well, Camille?" Ruth asked.

Camille sighed heavily. "Give me a minute, boys." To Ruth, in a private corner, she said in a cross, Frenchless voice, "This better be good."

"I need your help. Kid's been captured by a man looking to collect the reward on him."

"I was afraid that would happen, but what's that got to do with me?"

"You're the only one I know in St. Louis who cares what happens to Kid. You do still care, don't you?"

"I suppose, but what can I do about it?"

"Kid heard a man say that there was a fellow in here that had been on one of the robbed stagecoaches. If I can find him, I'll have a witness that could remember the robber's height and voice and maybe put Kid in the clear. You must have heard some things yourself about it. Something that will help. Anything."

"Sure I have. I even know who's behind the robberies. Some pimple-faced 17 year old, bragged all about his crimes to one of my girls, but he's left town. You aren't going to find him."

"Will this girl come with me to Franklin and tell the stage company owner that?"

"And have her decide to run away or have you try to convert her? Not on your life."

"Maybe your testimony'll be enough. Will you go with me?"

She laughed harshly. "My, you're the naïve one. Even if I do, they're not going to accept the testimony of someone like me."

"You never know until you try. It's bound to beat doing nothing."

Camille turned her head and sighed heavily. Then she turned back to Ruth. "I don't know which is crazier a preacher lady asking a madame to travel with her, especially when she knows that woman is her husband's ex-lover, or the madame for going. I'm only doing this for Kid."

"I know and we both appreciate it."

"Don't thank me yet. This trip may a waste. Let me go put one of my girls in charge, give her some instructions, and get a few things together. Can you handle yourself until I get back?" she asked, the look saying she didn't believe she could.

"Don't worry about me. I'll just sit right down here and read my Bible. It makes a man hesitate to try anything when he's got to get through Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John to get to me."

Camille snorted. "I think I'm starting to see why he likes you. I'll be right back."

Ruth sat down and true to her word sought comfort within its pages. Camille didn't take but about 15 minutes.

"We'll take my horses but leave the wagon. Can you ride?" Ruth asked.

"Of course, I can ride."

"Never hurts to ask."

She filled Camille in on all the details she knew on the way to the livery where she gave the liveryman her and Kid's last cent to keep Grace and the wagon until they got back.

"What a beautiful horse," Camille said of Grace.

"She ain't quite ready to be ridden yet. Still a little too young. You'll have to take Kid's horse unless you got one of your own you want to ride."

"What would I need with a horse? I'll take Kid's." She saw Ruth saddling up Carmel. "That's your horse? We ain't going to make good time with that plug."

"I went down by Mr. Morris' house again before I came here. He's got one mule pulling a wagon and the mule looks more broken down than Carmel here. We'll be able to follow easy enough."

"That's a relief. A week in the wilderness with you," Camille said as she mounted Horse. "This ought to be fun."

Ruth was thinking the same thing. She prayed for patience because her nerves were a little frayed already.


	8. Chapter 8

"I'm filthy," Camille complained as they made camp that night. She slapped the back of her neck. "And the bugs are eating me alive."

"I got a carbolic acid and sweet oil mixture you can apply to your skin. Don't smell half bad and keep the mosquitoes off you real good. Just got to be careful not to get it in your eyes."

"No thank you," she said even as she scratched a bite behind her ear.

"Suit yourself," Ruth said though she wished she had taken it just to stop the complaining, but she was sure Camille would find something else to complain about.

They'd been keeping far enough behind not to be spotted though Ruth suspected Ben knew she would follow. Ruth had the nagging sensation that she and Camille were being followed as well and had been repeatedly looking over her shoulder but had never seen anything to confirm it.

Camille looked at the Bible in Ruth's hand like it would bite if one weren't too careful. "Is that thing glued to your hand? Of all the things you could carry with you on a trip like this and that had to be one of them. It's useless."

"It's the most precious, essential item I own. I have immediate access to His Word whenever I need it. I'd be lost without it.."

Camille snorted in reply and then watched as Ruth got a fire going and heated up beans and biscuits.

Camille ate in silence, but after she'd had her fill she leaned back on her hands and said, "I've known a lot of men."

Ruth could tell Camille was gearing up to taunt her, so she recited one of her favorite psalms to herself to keep from losing her temper, "I lift up mine eyes unto the hills—from whence cometh my help?"

"Kid's always been my favorite. He's so gentle and he makes you feel special. "

Her eyes started to burn. "My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth."

"But I suppose you'd know that. Doesn't it bother a woman like you? That he's known so many women?"

"He will not suffer thy foot to be moved— He that keepeth thee will not slumber. Behold, He that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep."

Ruth had said it loud enough for Camille to hear what she was saying that time. "You believe that? What if they hang him? Would you still trust the God you serve then?"

"The Lord is thy keeper—the Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand; the sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil— He shall preserve Thy soul. The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even forevermore." She'd recited the rest of it to her because the psalm answered her question more perfectly than she ever could.

"So you really do then. Believe it. I pity and envy you at the same time for that kind of faith." She changed the subject quickly, realizing she'd ventured away from talk of Kid to talk of God, and went back to taunting. "You know I can teach you some ways to hold onto Kid."

"No thanks," Ruth said dryly. "I think if we're going to put in another day of riding, we should go to bed."

"You think you can after all the…" she hesitated for a moment to come up with the right euphemism, "miles he's put in. He'll tire of you. You have to keep things fresh."

It was Ruth's turn to pity her. "You really believe that? Marriage can get tiresome if both people ain't working at it. It's hard cause essentially you got two sinners living together in close quarters and it's a lot of work, painful at times; it ain't for the fainthearted, but it's worth it in the long run. Does his past with women bother me? Not nearly as much as you might think because he's not the same man he was then. I trust Kid because he trusts God and I know he trusts me for the same reason. We'll last because though coming together as man and wife is important, it's God that holds us together."

"I won't ever know about that. Women like me don't get married," she said coldly. "But I do think you're right about turning in."

sss

As the sky turned a blushing pink, Ruth was wakened by a rustling in the bushes. She'd brought her gravel-flipper along not only to nab a squirrel for the pot if needed, but to scare off any wild animals that might try to bother them. She grabbed it from her saddlebag.

Camille stirred, opening her eyes, and Ruth knew she must have looked a sight with her hair messy and creeping along with a slingshot in hand.

"You going to slay a giant?" Camille asked, her tongue still sharp though her brain was partly still enveloped in the fog of sleep.

Ruth responded by putting a finger to her lips to silence her and once she was at a suitable distance to keep the quarry from running, she said to the bushes, "If you're not a critter, I suggest you show yourself before this gravel comes flying in at you."

Ruth lowered her slingshot as she saw a girl around 10 pop up, skinny as a rail and wearing a nervous smile and a threadbare dress. "Hello."

"Have you been following me around since St. Louis?" Ruth asked.

"Yes," she admitted sheepishly

On the one hand Ruth was relieved that the situation hadn't turned out to be more sinister, but on the other hand, now there was a young girl to deal with that they couldn't just leave on her own. "Can I ask why you're following me?"

"You're my hero. You travel alone through the west—"

"With my husband," she corrected.

"Even so and you heal people. And you're so nice. I want to be just like you. I'm going to have my own revival meeting when I get older too. Sister Lydia's Revival."

Ruth was surprised. No one had ever wanted to emulate her before. She couldn't help but be flattered even if annoyance was at the top of her list of feelings at the moment.

"Aww, you got yourself a little disciple," Camille cooed sarcastically

Ruth wasn't amused with Camille or the girl. "Well, you can't follow me around. Your parents must be worried sick about you."

The girl started to protest, but Camille spoke first. "We can't take her back now. We're a day away. We'd lose them."

Ruth knew she was right. "You can stay with me until we're back in St. Louis, Lydia, but then you're going back to your family."

"Yes!" Lydia said, bubbling over with enthusiasm. "You won't regret this. You just watch. I'll be an enormous help. When the next couple of weeks are over, you won't want to be rid of me." She began to prove her words by rolling up Ruth's bedding for her, which was never going to fit in the saddle bag with the untidy bundle she had made of it.

"Lord, have mercy," Ruth said. What else could go wrong? Was God allowing Satan to try her endurance like Job? It sure felt like it.


	9. Chapter 9

Lydia rode with Camille because as Camille put it Carmel didn't need any more weight slowing her down and she certainly wasn't going to ride the plodding beast.

Camille seemed in a crabbier mood than the day before and she asked as they dismounted that night, "Will we have enough provisions for three to last until we reach Franklin?"

"We'll make do. Won't nobody starve," Ruth assured her. "Good thing about this time of year is that there's a mess of greens to be had if you go looking."

"Sounds delicious," Camille said, making a face. She found a log to sit on while Ruth got the meal together again.

Ruth chopped some of the vegetables she had brought along, contributions from some of the farm folks from the revival, readying it for a stew. Lydia helped by throwing the unneeded parts away, dumping the chopped pieces into the pot, and going to the nearby creek for some water. Ruth watered down the stew more than she would usually have done to make sure it would stretch comfortably between them.

"Can I go look around in the woods?" Lydia asked eagerly once the pot was simmering above the fire.

"As long as you don't wander off too far, I want you to stay in calling distance."

"Yes, ma'am. I will."

Ruth sighed as she watched her go. The girl needed new clothes badly. The ones she had on were so worn and dirty. If she'd brought along her sewing supplies and had the time, she would've made the girl a new dress. She hated to see a child dressed that way and it worried her to think of her not having more substantial clothes for the winter. She just hoped Lydia's family wouldn't be too proud to accept the charity.

Ruth was grateful for Camille's unusual silence she studied the Bible before the daylight was gone altogether.

About 20 minutes later, Lydia returned and was holding up her tattered apron and from the way she looked down at it, the apron held a treasure. "Look, Sister Ruth. I found a wild strawberry patch."

"So you did. This'll make a fine dessert. That's a good eye, you have."

She practically glowed under Ruth's praise and looked as proud as could be that she had contributed to the meal. She put them on a plate and presented it to her. "Can I do anything else?"

"You can stir the stew for me periodically. We don't want the bottom to scorch."

Ruth washed the strawberries off with some of the leftover water.

"Why don't she help?" Lydia demanded in a whisper. They were far enough away that Camille wouldn't hear a whisper.

"She is helping just by being here," Ruth answered.

Lydia looked at her incredulously though she didn't verbalize the doubt.

"She is," Ruth assured her. "She's going to help convince the man in Franklin of my husband's innocence. She didn't have to come."

"She could still help right now," Lydia muttered.

Camille suddenly jumped up and ran toward the woods.

"Do you think she heard? Did I hurt her feelings?" Lydia asked, sounding remorseful.

"I don't think so, honey, she just—"

They heard her retching behind the cover of trees. She came out, looking a little wan, but otherwise no worse for the wear.

"You okay?" Ruth asked.

"You don't have to pretend you care," she said sharply. However, once seated again, she said, "It's this hot weather we're having and the nonstop bouncing up and down on the back of a horse. It makes me sick."

"Oh," Lydia said, accepting the explanation.

Ruth didn't say a word, but the way she looked at Camille said she wasn't buying it and Camille knew it.

Ruth spooned out the stew, putting just enough in one of the small wooden bowls to cover the bottom. She walked it over to Camille. "You'll feel better if you try to put a little bit back on your stomach. Don't overdo but a little bit helps. Also, try not to smell it too much if you can."

"And how would you know?" she retorted.

"My granny was a healer, a midwife. I learned a lot from her."

Camille softened a little after Ruth's soft reply. "Yeah, well. Thanks, I guess. I'll give it a try."

Lydia divvied out the strawberries after they had all finished.

Camille gave a reminiscent smile, looking better and having kept down the light fare. "I knew a man once who really liked strawberries. He liked to be fed them while—"

Ruth cleared her throat. "Little pitchers have big ears," she cautioned, having seen where this story was going.

"I know what that means. I'm not a baby," Lydia said.

"You do?" Ruth asked, surprised.

"It means you don't want me to hear whatever she was going to say. Something that was ugly or not fit for polite company."

Ruth was visibly relieved. "You're right." The sky was darkening. "I think it's about time we were turning in anyway."

It didn't take long before Lydia was fast asleep on Ruth's quilt and pillow.

"What are you going to do?" Ruth asked.

It took Camille a moment to figure out what she was talking about. "Oh, you mean about the baby." She shrugged. "It's not the first time I've gotten in the family way and it probably won't be the last. As soon as we get back, I'll see to it."

Ruth was shocked by her words. She knew of such things but had never met anyone who'd actually done it.

"If I had someone like Kid, maybe I could keep it, but you don't know what it's like to be pregnant without a man, so don't judge me."

"I didn't say I was," Ruth replied.

"Your eyes said it for you," Camille bit back.

Ruth flushed. It was true. She had been judging her. It just didn't seem fair when she hoped and prayed each month that she and Kid would be blessed with a child, but so far the Lord hadn't answered her prayers. Yet, a woman who didn't want children had been blessed more than once and wasted the gift each time. Where was the justice in that?

Suddenly hope filled her eyes "What if Kid did raise it? He and I would treat it as our own. You know we would. Just please don't harm the baby."

Camille had been adjusting her pillows in preparation to lay down but now froze. "What do you care what happens to this unborn child? You don't even know it."

"No, but God does. 'I was cast upon Thee from the womb: Thou _art_ my God from my mother's belly.' And believe it or not, I care about you too. You are doing damage if not to your body then to your heart and soul by doing such an act."

"You're lying. You don't care about me given the relationship I once had with your husband." Then she sighed. "Your offer is an option I hadn't considered. Not many want a child born from such circumstances. I'll think on it." She laid down and turned away, hiding whatever thoughts she would be thinking.

Ruth got down on the quilt beside Lydia. The girl looked so young and sweet asleep, dark wisps of her now groomed hair falling across her cheek. Ruth yearned for a child of her own to love, protect, and teach to know the Lord. Maybe Camille's baby was God's answer.


	10. Chapter 10

Ruth, Camille, and Lydia had managed to get to Franklin without further mishap personal or otherwise.

It wasn't the first time Ruth had been to Franklin as the town was where the Santa Fe trail started, but it looked a lot different from last time. A big flood had swept through the town a couple years back, causing folks to relocate a little further north. One thing that hadn't changed was that it was full of merchants looking to make a dollar from those heading further west. The town thrived despite the disaster.

They made it to the office just minutes after Bill and Kid did.

They must have presented a surprising contrast with a woman wearing fancy, bright silks that showed enough skin to mark her profession, a lady in a plainer more modest garb carrying a Bible, and a young girl whose dress had seen better days for all three men seemed downright flabbergasted by their appearance together.

Ruth went over to Kid and hugged him, relieved to feel him in her arms again. This past week had felt like an eternity. "Are you alright?"

"Fine, but I wish you wouldn't have come," he reiterated. He was worried that Ruth might get considered an accomplice in all this lunacy.

"Ma'am, this is a hardened criminal you're conversing with, I suggest you back up and give the prisoner a wide berth. You don't know what he's capable of," said a snappily dressed man somewhere in his 40s. He was clearly the owner.

"Prisoner by whose authority? You don't look like a sheriff to me," Ruth said.

"I'm Edgar Hunter and it's a citizen's arrest. This man stole from my company and I intend to see that he doesn't steal from me or anybody else again or gun anybody else down for that matter. This man is a menace."

Ruth didn't like the sound of that. If she'd hoped to find a strain of mercy in this man, those hopes were gone.

"Kid Cole is not the man you're looking for," Camille said.

"If you'll pardon me," said Bill. He'd already been given the money and intended to leave.

"Hold it," said Edgar, "You're not going anywhere until these women have their say. I doubt it'll make a difference though. Go on."

"Who you're looking for is some 16 year old boy using Kid's name to rob your coaches," Camille revealed.

"And how would you know?" Edgar asked with a scoff.

Camille lifted her head higher and Ruth wondered if she really felt that pride or if it was a mask to hide her shame as she answered, "Because I heard it from one of my women."

"One of your women?" he repeated.

"I'm a madame. This woman isn't the kind to lie either. If she says the boy told her he did it, he did it."

"And how do you know that this boy wasn't simply bragging to try to impress her?" he returned.

"Because I know Kid and it isn't his style. If he needs money, he doesn't go and take it from somebody. He always comes by it honestly even before he went and got religion."

"You expect me to take the word of a soiled dove over the witnesses I have that were there?"

Camille shot Ruth a look that said I-told-you-so. She was chalking it up as a lost cause already.

Ruth asked, "What about me? I can vouch for his whereabouts everyday for the past 2 years. I'm his wife. Ain't that enough for you?"

"Not when you're so personally involved. Sorry, ma'am. I understand that he's your husband and you don't want to see his neck in a noose, but you got to understand that my company will go under if these attacks continue."

_Lord help us,_ she prayed_. _The words had been a mantra in the past few days, not because of a lack of faith or because she thought He couldn't hear her, but because it calmed her and she did trust that He was listening and would soon give her an answer.

"Don't you know who this is?" Lydia demanded rather indignantly. Her hands were perched on her hips. "This is Sister Ruth. The revival and healer lady and you ain't going to take her word for it?"

His demeanor immediately changed. "I—I'm sorry. I wasn't aware of that. I guess that does put things in a new light. You're sure you can account for his whereabouts?"

"We ain't even been in Missouri until just recently," Ruth replied.

"Well, I suppose I can't condemn an innocent man. You may free him, Mrs. Cole."

Ruth wasted no time. She was pleased to see that although the ropes had been tight enough to keep him from undoing them, they hadn't been so tight as to leave marks.

Kid gave a sigh of relief, both for escaping the noose and the increased blood flow now that his arms weren't tied behind his back.

Ruth had been starting to regret her well-known name after the hotel incident, but maybe a well-known name had its good points too. Still, if not for Kid's well-known name, they might not be in this mess in the first place.

"It isn't enough I've got to compete with the river. Why if it wasn't for that blasted—forgive my language, ma'am—thief, I'd have a lot more money lining my pockets." He looked to Bill who'd been slowly inching his way toward the door, hoping for an unnoticed escape. "You can't possibly keep the reward money. Hand it over now or I'll be forced into another citizen's arrest."

"Why can't I? I brought you Kid Cole just like the notice said," Bill almost whined.

"But he didn't actually rob the coaches, did he?" Edgar shot back.

"Now it didn't say that," Bill pointed out, looking most pitiful. "It only said you wanted Kid Cole and you got him."

"You got the money to take it to court over the wording? That's a mere technicality. It should have been clear enough, I wanted the thief."

Bill parted with the money, his eyes never leaving it until it was tucked away in Edgar's pocket. "Doggone, lady. You couldn't have waited 5 minutes until I got gone with the money?"

"I tried to warn you that he was innocent, but you wouldn't listen," Ruth said, "but I'll pray that God gives you a way out of your financial trouble."

"I'd like to see that," Bill said. "I don't see God letting it rain money anytime soon." The old man left as penniless as he came and Ruth couldn't help feeling a twinge of sympathy for him.

"I don't suppose I could impose on you to find the real person behind the robberies?" he asked Kid. He at least had the sense to be hesitant about it after his former hardnosed attitude.

"Oh, I'll find him," Kid said with a determined look that would have made most men squirm, "not because I care what happens to your company, but because I don't like the idea of somebody going around masquerading as me. This was too close a call for comfort. He'll be sorry that he ever heard of my name."


	11. Chapter 11

"Here's a 50 dollar advance," Edgar said, holding the crisp, brown bills out as a sign of good faith and will.

Ruth didn't know whether he was being generous or worried about the exaggerated stories concerning Kid. She had a feeling it was the former as the Kid of legend would kill a man for looking at him cross-eyed.

Out of the stagecoach office and into the street, Ruth and Kid led with Camille and Lydia trailing behind.

"You invited Camille along? Why?" Kid asked quietly.

"I was willing to try anything and she was a creditable witness if not for that fool man's prejudice."

"Good thing you brought that little girl. She saved my skin back there. Who is she by the way?"

Ruth shook her head and sighed. "She says she wants to be like me when she grows up. She followed us purely by accident. By the time we knew, it was too late to send her back."

He laughed. "I like her even better now. Not such an accident though, is it?"

"No, never is with God. Not a sparrow falls without His knowledge or will."

He saw the horses tied to the hitching posts. "You and I can ride back on Horse and Camille and the girl can ride back on Carmel."

"Camille ain't going to like that. She's taken a strong disliking to my horse."

"She'll have to deal with it or walk back," Kid said unsympathetically.

"We didn't plan for Lydia, our little extra companion. We need a little more food to see us back."

"I'll go buy some then. The sooner we get back to St. Louis the better. I believe that's where our man is. It's populated enough to make it fairly easy to hide there and we know he's been to Camille's saloon at least once. Chances are he'll go back if he's in the area. I think it's the best place for me to start looking. We might be there longer than we planned."

"Maybe longer than you think," she said mysteriously.

He wanted to question her more about that comment when she didn't explain further, but there would soon be plenty of time for talking on the trail. He didn't want to waste precious time.

He went and got the needed food while Ruth and Lydia watered the horses.

Ruth watched as 2 women flocked around him as he came out of the store; word of his being in Franklin must have already spread. The same phony stories that put fear and admiration into the men made the women's hearts flutter. She didn't see what was so all-fire romantic about killing people though she knew why he was attractive in person with his tall, dark looks and good manners. What appealed to her most, of course, was his godly character, a fact most weren't aware of. Ruth didn't like the trimmings, of which the women were one, that came with being famous, not for herself and not for Kid. She trusted him though, even with women throwing themselves at him. Whatever he said to them worked and they let him be.

"Ready?" he asked her after he put the food supplies in the saddlebag.

"Before we go, can I talk to you a minute privately?"

They moved over to a deserted spot of the street. She could feel Camille's eyes on her. She obviously knew what the conversation was going to be about.

"How would you feel if we had a baby?" she began.

His face lit up with surprise and delight. "You're having a baby? This is wonderful!" He brought her in an embrace and spun her in a circle before she could explain.

She turned red with embarrassment and immediately clarified, "No, not exactly, but I know someone who is and who needs 2 parents to raise it."

Confusion came first then realization. "Camille," he said more statement than question.

"Yeah. I know it's not what we planned, but I know we could love a child that wasn't ours in the fullest sense as much as we could love one of our own."

"And how would we feed it those first few months?"

"There are things it can drink and we could find a woman still nursing a child of her own to help us. We can work something out."

"I don't know, Ruth. I'll think about it."

"If we don't say yes, she says no to bringing it into the world." She didn't want to force him into anything, but he needed to know.

He wasn't shocked. He'd hung around enough with prostitutes to know how that side of things worked. He was sorrowful about it though. "You're sure this is what you want?" he asked at last.

"Positive," she answered quickly, hope shining in her eyes.

"How can I say no to you or to the baby?" he asked.

"Oh, thank you, honey," she said joyfully, throwing her arms around him in love and gratitude. "You made the right choice. You'll see."

"I know who you are," Camille said to Lydia while Ruth and Kid were still off having their conversation. "I thought I'd seen you around and it just came to me. Your ma works at Jon Baudin's place. You're Florine's girl."

It made the girl panicky. It was a secret she didn't want Sister Ruth to know. She had learned young in life that normal people didn't like what her ma did for a living and that dislike extended to her. She'd even seen a couple of these "normal" people, who were frequent visitors to her mother, pretend not to know her and scorn her if they met her anywhere besides the street where she lived. People on the outside treated her like she was not a little girl but a creature beneath their pity.

She had once tried attending a school that a lady had opened in her home, but the shunning she had received from the children and parents had brought enough tears to soak her pillow that day, which had made her ma insist she not go back. She had picked up what learning she could in her small little corner of the saloon, a room more closet than bedroom, copying letters from an old hornbook while trying to tune out the disturbing and frightful noises she heard seep in under the crack, noises she'd heard almost all of her life but bothered her nonetheless.

The most condemning folks of all seemed to be church folks, but she sensed somehow that Ruth was different. Nonetheless, she couldn't take the chance that her view of her would change. If she continued being helpful, maybe Sister Ruth would let her be a part of her revival and she wouldn't have to wait until she grew up to be respectable. Her ma would understand and let her go, she knew she would. "Please, don't say anything," she begged Camille.

Camille laughed. "I suppose we all have our secrets, don't we? I won't say anything."

The tension went out of her thin body in a way that commanded Camille's compassion.

"But your hero's not much of a hero if she doesn't accept what you can't change. You didn't ask to be born to the woman and life that you were." As she saw the girl's unhappiness, Camille knew what she'd known all along. She'd been doing her unborn children a favor by seeing that they weren't born into this kind of life.


	12. Chapter 12

It had been a long day of riding. Ruth longed for the wagon, which was not necessarily the most comfortable form of travel either especially over bumpy terrain, but her legs were sore from all the riding. The only positive thing was that she was enjoying the closeness to Kid and had occasional back support now.

Kid dismounted first and helped Ruth down. He started to help her unpack the saddlebag.

"Do you mind helping them down?" Ruth asked as Carmel caught up. "It's long way down to the ground for a little girl and it looks like Camille could use someone to walk her down to the river for some water."

He went over and helped Lydia down with a small smile. She smiled back. He didn't intimidate children like one might expect. He had a gentle way with them that brought their immediate confidence.

Smile gone, he helped Camille down. From the gloatful way she responded, Ruth was afraid Camille was reading more into it than there was. She would take her down to the creek herself, but she was the only competent cook in this bunch.

She turned her attention to Lydia and focused on the task at hand. The girl was an eager helper. Surely her mother would have begun to teach her by this age, but apparently she hadn't. Her poor dress argued against a hired cook. Maybe she only had her father. She smiled at the girl, realizing it was a conundrum she would soon figure out when they dropped her off at home. She hoped her family wasn't too worried about her, although she could hardly see how they wouldn't be after this many days.

"Can I walk you down for some water?" he asked Camille.

She did look a bit pallid as she shook her head yes. He offered her an arm and with a slight wave at Ruth, more for Camille's knowledge than Ruth's as he didn't want her to think he was whisking her away behind his wife's back, he led her down the brambly path.

At the creek, she bent down and wet her handkerchief in the water. She dabbed at her face and then pulled a sleeve down to bathe her skin further though he realized she was probably trying to tempt him by the action more than anything else. He responded by quickly averting his eyes and turning his back on her.

"I'm decent again," she said after a few moments, wearing a smirk on her face but in full dress as she said.

"You feeling better?" he asked genuinely.

"A little." She went from a squatting position to a sitting position and patted the dirt beside her. "Not feeling up to walking back though unless you want to carry me."

He didn't. He sat down making sure there were a good couple feet between them.

"I will say this about your wife. She is not an uppity woman for one in her profession. She has treated me well though I have purposely tried her patience. You know Florine, do you not?"

"Anyone who's spent any time in St. Louis knows Florine."

"Lydia is her daughter," Camille revealed. "The girl doesn't want your Sister Ruth to know."

"Ruth won't care. I take that back. Ruth will care. She will fight to see that she doesn't continue to grow up in that kind of a place and I support that. A saloon is no place to raise a child."

"No, it is not," she agreed meaningfully. "I suppose she told you that I'm with child."

"She did and I've told her that we will raise it." His eyes automatically lowered to her stomach to see if he could see the telling bulge. "I think it's brave and kind of you to give this baby a chance at life. We will love it."

"I haven't totally made up my mind yet. Will you tell it who it's real mother is?"

"Some day maybe. Why do you want us to?"

"No. He or she shouldn't have to know their mother is a whore." She suddenly turned to the side heaving out the contents of the small lunch from earlier, proving that she hadn't been putting on an act solely for the purpose of luring him.

He brought out his own handkerchief and offered it to her. She took it and wiped the corners of her mouth. He took it back and then stood up, offering her his hands, so she could get up and move away from the nauseating smell.

She used the opportunity of his sudden nearness to move in even closer with nothing but a couple inches separating them. "Why all the sudden attentions, grown tired of your wife already?" she taunted. "She's a cold fish in bed who doesn't know how to heat your blood, which is why she hasn't produced you a baby of your own, oui?"

Kid came as close to hitting a woman as he ever had in his life. He took a large step back and said through gritted teeth, "Get it through your head. I love Ruth in every sense of the word. You and I never shared anything close to love and we never will."

"You flatter yourself to think I ask for your love. I was merely trying to relieve the tensions between us."

"The tensions between us are not those kinds of tensions. So then that's why you've been trying to get me in your bed since I got back?"

She laughed though not a mirthful laugh. "What is it they say? Misery loves company? No, I just don't like to see men that think they're so highfaluting when it wasn't all that long ago they were rolling in the mud and filth themselves."

"Is that what you think? I don't think I'm better than you," he said adamantly.

She snorted in reply. "No? You at least think Ruth is better than me."

"I don't think that either and neither does she. We are made new and different by God's grace, but we're all sinners. Far be it from us to judge you."

"Save your preaching." Her hand went to her midsection. "You are only treating me nicely for the baby's sake. You both could care less that my soul will rot in hell. In fact, I bet your wife put you up to taking care of me."

His silence was the only answer she needed. "Oh, get out of my face. Go help the little woman and let me be. Just remember that when I am burning in hell, it's men of your ilk that helped put me there."

He could see that there would be no reasoning with her today, so he did leave.

She followed but kept a measured distance behind him. Camille was jealous. Not of Kid so much. It had been a game more than anything else to see if she could tempt him away from matrimony and his newfound God with her charms, although she had liked him well enough, at least before. He had always been unfailingly polite and decent, making her feel more like a lady than what she was and not an object to take pleasure from, a true rarity in the line of men that she spent time with. No, what she was jealous of was the bond between them.

Her eyes and nose tingled as she watched the tenderness with which he helped her prepare the meal. Lydia was helping too. Camille wondered if Ruth knew how lucky she was to be loved that way. What would it be like to be loved like that by a man and child? It was like a scene from the future. She could substitute Lydia for the child that grew in her womb in her mind's eye. A happy little family it painted. She was even jealous of her child, but her life was what it was. She was just glad she had worked her way up from a common prostitute. Well, not worked so much as gambled some would say, but it had taken years to perfect her card game and seduce the original owner into putting the deed on the table. It pained her in a way, but she knew in that moment, she would let this child live to fulfill that glimpse of what could be; he or she would have a chance at a happy, normal life even if she'd lost that chance long ago.


	13. Chapter 13

Kid had told Ruth about Lydia and how she didn't want her knowing, so she hadn't let onto the girl that she knew now about her mother and living situation. She had tried to find little, subtle ways to show her that she wouldn't condemn her, but she remained too afraid to confide in her.

Back in St. Louis, Kid and Ruth dropped Camille off first. Kid helped her down. She didn't let go of Kid right away and Carmel nipped her backside as if she'd had enough of her. She quickly backed up out of the reach of the horse's mouth.

"Sorry about that. It must be your perfume she don't like. She's generally as gentle as a lamb," Ruth said. She also thought perhaps the horse could sense Camille's dislike of her. Animals could be sensitive that way.

Camille looked at her as if she thought Ruth had put the horse up to it. Then she said to Kid, "We'll be in touch, I suppose. The baby will be coming in 7 months if I estimate right. You're sure you'll still be here in May?"

"If we have to leave and we might, we'll be back for the baby. It's a promise."

She nodded without further comment and went into the saloon.

Ruth got off of Horse and onto Carmel with Lydia. "Well, now we need to be getting you to your momma."

She deflated like a balloon. She'd been hoping after all this time Sister Ruth would insist that she just couldn't do without her. "Just let me off. I'll go from here."

"It ain't safe in this part of the city and I'd like to talk to your mother and explain things."

"There ain't nothing to explain. Besides, she probably didn't even notice I was gone." She muttered that last part to herself.

"What's that?" Ruth asked.

"Nothing. It ain't far from here and I'll tell her myself, I promise."

"I just can't allow you to do that, Lydia, so you going to tell us where you live?"

She didn't answer.

"Look at those clouds." Lydia complied and saw the sky did indeed have an ominous, dark look. "It's going to storm before too long and it ain't going to be no little drizzle. You're going to need an ark to get back in this kind of weather. We all will."

"A what?" Lydia asked.

"Noah's boat," she clarified.

"Oh," she replied. It was clear that piece of information hadn't clued her in very much.

She'd read from the Bible to Lydia during the trip, but she hadn't noticed that she was completely lacking in a biblical foundation until Kid had told her about Florine. Of course, she'd been rather distracted worrying about Kid. "Please, won't you tell me? I could ask around, but you could save me some time."

"I live here," she admitted at last when she saw that Ruth wasn't going to give up. If she snunk off, she probably would ask around until she found her anyway. What did it matter now, she told herself, but still she looked at the ground, trying to find something to focus on to keep herself from crying when she was rejected. "On this street."

"Which building?"

Sister Ruth's voice sounded gentler than before, causing Lydia to look up again. "Down there on the corner."

The building she referred to was the rattiest of them all. It looked like a stiff breeze could knock it over any moment.

Ruth and Kid turned the horses and began going in that direction.

Kid stopped his horse when he saw a discarded newspaper on the sidewalk. He got down and retrieved it. His hope was that there'd be a helpful article in there, information on a new robbery possibly, but it was something on the front page that caught his attention. He swung back on Horse and then handed her the copy of the Missouri Gazette. "Read that."

"That Tom Thumb is peculiar looking," she said, looking at the illustration that had been drawn of the locomotive, "and it says here that although it didn't win the race with a horse because of a slipped belt, it was faster. Don't sound altogether safe though and can you imagine the noise that thing would make? Still it seems like it'll be the transportation of the future if they can work out the problems with it and I certainly wouldn't be opposed to faster travel. Just imagine the opportunities it'll open up."

"The article below it," he said.

"Oh, mercy," she said softly as she read the first line. It only got worse as she read on. "Oh, heavens," she said, finishing the article. "I'd forgotten about that completely. The man that wrote this told me he was going to put my whereabouts in the paper when I ran into him down here. I didn't pay it much attention because I was so worried about you, but I expected a scathing editorial at worst, not boldfaced lies." She didn't repeat some of the shocking statements with young ears listening though likely it was nothing she hadn't heard before given the way she was raised.

"I think I'm going to pay this new friend of yours a visit," he said. "He'll be writing a retraction in the next issue."

"Now, Kid, what does it matter now? The damage is already done. It ain't going to erase the thoughts from people's heads. It was only a matter of time before something like this happened anyway. The devil's never happy when souls are being won for Christ and the truth is never as interesting as fiction. You should know that better than anyone. Besides, you should be focusing on finding your thief."

"How many you think'll be coming to your revival now with that printed trash?" he asked, knowing that was something she would care about.

"I don't know. I reckon we'll see. At least I wasn't the top story. Thank God for Tom Thumb. Maybe people barely glanced at my story."

His look said the likelihood he thought of that, but he resumed the ride, having felt a fat raindrop hit his hand.

It was more brothel than saloon though it certainly had a small room for drinking and card playing. There were only 2 drinking customers at the moment. It made Ruth want to cry to think of Lydia having had to grow up in a place like this. From the way she shrunk against her, she'd had some bad experiences in this room.

They must have looked downright comical, a family-looking unit in a place of ill repute, but no one gawked at them overly long and no one moved to stop them. The barkeeper must have given them a pass since they were with Lydia.

Lydia led them to her mother's room. It was the middle of the day, so she wasn't entertaining men, but she was obviously heavily intoxicated. Her hair was unkempt as her daughter's had been before Ruth had gotten hold of her. If she was surprised to see two strangers waltz in, she didn't say so. She barely acknowledged them in her drunken haze.

"We're bringing your daughter home," Ruth said. "She followed us to Franklin."

"I wondered where she'd gotten off to," she said in a slurred, disinterested voice, but then she glanced at Lydia sharply. "You been causing this lady trouble?"

"No, Ma," she answered softly.

When it didn't look as if her mother were buying it, Ruth said, "Not at all, she was a big help to me these past couple weeks."

"Who are you anyway?" she said, turning her irritation on her instead.

"This is Sister Ruth," Lydia answered. "She can heal people right up just by putting her hand on them and telling them about God."

She humphed and then her barely-able-to-focus eyes fell on Kid. "Don't I know you from somewhere?"

"Name's Kid Cole," he answered.

"Ah, that's it. You come for my attentions?"

He turned a little red. "No, ma'am. I came to return your daughter. Sister Ruth is my wife."

"Is that right?"

"We're a little worried, Miss Florine, about her," Ruth said. "With your permission, we'd like to try and find her a home where she can receive more attention. Away from these, um, unfit conditions. Surely you know what could happen to her if she stays, especially as she begins to blossom into a young woman. I'd see to it that she had loving, Christian parents."

"Who are you to tell me what I should be doing with my own flesh and blood? I won't fill her head full of fairy tales about God. Life is hard and she might as well know that now."

Lydia walked them out to the hallway.

"There's no use talking to her now," Lydia said quietly. "Maybe when she sobers up."

Ruth could tell by her tone that those times were few and far between. "You think you want to come to church with us tomorrow?"

"Would I?" she said, her eyes lighting up. "Ma won't care cause she'll be asleep by then, but maybe you could pick me up at the other end of the street?"

"Sure we can," Kid told her.

"We've got to find a way to help that little girl," Ruth said to him once they were outside. The promised rain was now coming down hard and washing away the refuse that was rampant on this street as if God were trying to tell the residents what He could do with their sins. They dashed to the other side of the street where an overhanging would keep them dry until the storm passed.


	14. Chapter 14

By the time the rain let up, it had begun to get dark, but they made it to the hotel just before nightfall. Either her adoring fans had accepted she'd left St. Louis or they weren't her adoring fans anymore after the story in the paper because the crowds were gone.

"Better slip in the back, so folks don't get wind that you're back just in case," Kid told her quietly.

She couldn't agree more.

The cook and the kitchen maid were hard at work cleaning up.

"How is it you two always manage just to miss the dinner hour? Glad to see you both back though. I got some leftovers keeping warm in the stove."

Kid went to get it while Ruth made conversation. "How's your niece?" she asked.

"Fine," the cook answered, beaming. "Whatever she had seems to be gone like it was never there to begin with."

"Praise the Lord. She's been in my prayers."

"I thank you for all you done."

"I had nothing to do with it. The Lord's the one that healed her."

"Maybe so, but all I know is she was barely eating, wasting away, and now she's eating and gaining again and that didn't happen until you rolled into town and agreed to start praying for her. You had a little something to do with it."

"You heard anybody mentioning what's in the papers about me?" Ruth asked, changing the subject.

"Nobody's saying a word," her tone was overly bright, ringing with a false but well-meaning artificiality. A hint of anger appeared in her eyes though. "No good man. See if I buy a copy of the Missouri Gazette for the mister again."

"You're lying to me, ain't you? About nobody saying a word. You know I'd rather you tell me the truth than what I want to hear."

She blushed a bit. "Well, leastways no one dares talk about it around me. I admit I've heard some mentions and rumblings, but I quickly squelched them. Ain't nobody going to talk bad about you while I'm around. I can promise you that."

Kid had put some plates together and was ready to go.

"Well, thank you," Ruth said. "I reckon we better let you finish up here and get to bed our own selves."

After a round of good night wishes, they went up to their room.

"Have I told you how happy I am to be alone with you again?" he said as he handed her a plate.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't happy about it too, especially one traveling companion in particular."

He only smiled in reply.

They ate their meal and fell asleep almost as soon as they crawled into bed; the soft bed being a welcome change from the hard ground.

sss

Kid was greeted with the sight of his wife taking a rag to the furniture the next morning. "You cleaning on a Sunday and isn't that the hotel's job to keep the rooms clean? That's part of what we're paying them for."

"Cleanliness is next to godliness," she replied.

"Is that in the Bible?" he asked, brows raised questioningly.

She grinned. "No, but I've always thought it sounds pretty good. Certainly God ain't against cleanliness."

He grinned back. "If we had a house of our own, I pity the speck of dust that would dare land in your domain."

"Maybe you're right that I shouldn't be doing this on a Sunday, but there are exceptions and it takes more work for me not to think about it."

"I believe it. You want to come over here and dust me off while you're at it?" he teased. "I'm certain I'm dustier than the room after 2 weeks on the trail."

She threw the rag at him with a laugh. "Get up and get ready. Lydia's probably waiting on us."

"Yes, ma'am."

Lydia was waiting by the time they walked there. She had obviously taken great pains with her appearance. Her hair was pinned up like Ruth's only less tidily and already pins were working their way lose.

"You look lovely, sweetheart," Ruth told her as she tucked the stray pins back into her hair.

On the way there, Lydia imagined she was walking to church with her parents like regular children did and it felt nice. The girl hesitated just a moment before going in when they came to the church though.

She'd asked her mom once to take her inside a church when she was about 5. They had just walked by it, a beautiful, large log church with a steeple and a cross on top. Something about the cross piecing the early morning sky had touched her young heart and made her yearn for something she didn't know she was missing. Her mom's reply had been harsh though maybe realistic, "People like you and me ain't welcome in there." When she'd gotten older and wiser and learned what the building was for. She pictured a frowning God looking down his nose at her.

As if she had just witnessed the memory, Ruth smiled a warm smile, "If you ain't welcome in there then neither is Jesus and we'll leave, but Jesus loves you and folks that really truly follow Him will love you too."

She believed it when Ruth said it. She took courage from her words and boldly walked in behind them.

John Meachum was welcoming people at the door and looked more than a little surprised to see them there. "I thought you must've changed your mind."

"Sorry there wasn't much of a chance to explain, but Kid got into some trouble not of his own making and we had to leave the city for a bit. I don't know if the invitation still stands to speak at your church, but I'd certainly like to."

"Of course, it does."

Kid and Lydia took a seat near the front. She felt as secure in Kid's quiet as she felt in Ruth's friendly chatter and relaxed as she waited for things to get underway.

When Ruth took her place behind the pulpit, there were murmurings, not murmurings of surprise that a white preacher lady had showed up at their church unannounced, but murmurs that hinted Tom Thumb hadn't been more interesting than her story.

"There were lies printed about me saying that I prostitute myself to fund my traveling and that I have a drinking problem. The only true fact is that I was at a saloon where women sell their bodies to survive, which is where this writer found me."

The congregation looked at one another uncomfortably, gauging their fellow members' reactions.

"I know that alone is enough to shock some people and make me less of a proper lady in their eyes, but I'm going to tell you all the same thing Jesus told His accusers. You see even in Jesus' day they worried at the company He kept. He said to them, "for I am not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance'. And that's all I have to say in my defense. I mingle with those folks not because I share in their vices, but because even today Jesus is calling these to repentance. How can we be the representatives of Christ on this earth, His hands and feet, if we don't dine with sinners? They won't hear the message of healing and mercy unless we speak it to them and show our love in practical ways as the Lord would have us do."

A number of amens rang through the church.

"Mostly though I came not to defend myself but to ask if there are any among you who would seek healing of the body. I believe He wants to show us that the God of today is the God of yesterday. Come, friends, and see the heights to which God can grow the faith of a mustard seed."

5 men and women of various ages and ailments came to the altar and were healed.

"Thank you, Sister Ruth," Reverend Meachum. "I know we all appreciate you coming to us when not all of us can come to you and especially for reminding us of the might and healing found in the Lord Jesus Christ."

Ruth took a seat with Kid and Lydia.

"I would now like to turn our attention to the children. In order that we might do more for our young children, I recommend manual labor schools being established, so as the children cam have free access to them. And I would recommend in these schools pious teachers, either white or colored, who would take all pains with the children to bring them up in piety, and in industrious habits. We must endeavor to have our children look up a little, for they are too many to lie in idleness and dishonor."

Lydia paid attention to his words. She wouldn't mind learning a trade. That would mean freedom to earn her own way maybe sooner than the day she could take a revival on the road. She wished she could learn to sew right now or learn any other useful trade that they had to teach. She wondered if he got such a school open, would children that whites had rejected be welcome in the same way that teachers of either race would be welcomed.

"'Train up a child the way he should go and when he is old he will not depart from it," he quoted. "'Love your neighbor as yourself,' is the command of the New Testament. We are morally bound by the law of God to teach this to our children.

"I ask, if it would not be to the glory of God for us to endeavor to train up our children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord? Then if you think so, let us feel it a duty enjoined upon every son and daughter of our race, to endeavor to become united, that we may throw our mites together, and have schools in every state and county where the free children are in large numbers."

It was more of the same for the next hour or so and Lydia was enthralled by the message of the importance of education. She could write letters down. She even knew some of the names and sounds from asking people, but she was eager to learn more, to string the letters into words. Imagine being able to read God's very own words for yourself, she thought, as she gazed longingly at Sister Ruth's Bible.

Ruth noticed her gaze. "Would you like a Bible of your own, honey?" she whispered.

She turned crimson. "Yes'm, but I can't read," she whispered back.

"Ain't no shame in that. A lot of folks can't read, but would you like to change that?"

She looked up, wondering if Sister Ruth toyed with her.

"What's the best time for you? I ain't going to be here forever, but a smart girl like you could pick it up in no time."

"Mornings would be best, but I got to be back by lunch."

"Mornings it is then," Ruth agreed.

Reverend Meachum ended with an altar call. "Then why sit ye here and look at one another? Don't sit there any longer. Rise and go to work like men, and buy property and live like men and women in this world. If you have not got religion, God sends rain on the just and the unjust. But while you are receiving all these good things remember, O man, that thou hast an immortal soul that has to be saved or lost to all eternity. Then let us wake up, not only in regard to earthly concerns, but also in regard to eternity, which is just before us."

There were more amens and the service ended.

"I been thinking about what you said about there being exceptions to working on Sundays and I think He'd understand if I started hunting down the boy now. Keep him from robbing and scaring other innocent folks, so I'm going to walk Lydia home and see if I can't talk to the girl that's seen him," Kid told Ruth after they'd filed out.

"Alright. " She reached up and kissed his cheek. "Be careful."

"Likewise," he returned.

**John Meachum's sermon is taken from his book, **_**An Address to All the Colored Citizens of the United States.**_


	15. Chapter 15

Kid's conscience railed against him, leaving Lydia in the place she called home, but there was no help for it. He went straight to Camille's saloon afterwards.

"Couldn't go a day without seeing me?" Camille taunted in her phony French accent as soon as he stepped through the door.

"I'm here to talk to the girl who's seen that impersonator of mine."

"Of course you are," her smile, saying she had known it already. "Fortunately for you, business has yet to get in full swing or you'd be paying to talk to her. I've half a mind to make you pay anyway." As if she hoped to make him squirm, she paused for a moment. Then she said, "Second door on the left at the top of the stairs. Don't take too long"

He knocked and was greeted by an angry but attractive young woman. "This is my time off," she told him unequivocally.

"I just want to talk. Camille says you seen a young man that told you he was using Kid Cole's name to rob stagecoaches."

She reluctantly let him in and shut the door behind him. "Yeah, what of it? You the law or something?"

"Not at all. Might be that I want to get in on it. There can be more than one Kid Cole, can't there? Makes it that much harder for a man to be caught, don't it? With supposed sighting that are miles apart."

"You do look the part," she conceded. "He's smooth faced or he was. Hasn't quite lost his baby fat either and gotten a man's lean features like you. Blue eyes, light brown hair. Shorter than you by about a foot. His name is Colt Phillips. Said he was going to Jefferson City."

He inwardly sighed. It was a bit closer than Franklin but still no quick trip. It would take him 2 days just to get there if he went horseback. "Then I reckon that's where I'm headed. Thank you, ma'am."

"He'll be back here if you want to wait. He's promised to come back and get me as soon as he's set up in a new life."

Kid thought that was not very likely. A lot of men said things they didn't really mean to women in the heat of things even if they thought they meant it at the time.

She sensed his doubt and argued even harder, "Him and me ain't going to be poor all our lives and the money's going to make us upright townsfolk. You just wait and see. He wouldn't lie to me."

He felt sorry for the woman, especially if she thought money would redeem her. He had never strung any women along purposely, but he hoped none had walked away with any false expectations. They were many ways to tolerate selling your body to strangers night after night. Lydia's mother chose liquor, Camille chose working her way to a higher position in the trade, and others like this one chose self-delusion. He felt shame that he had at one time been a part of it all. He'd been too caught up with his own demons to see the harm he was causing to these women. "God forgive me."

"What's that?" she asked sharply.

"Nothing. Just don't wait for some man to come rescue you. You want out, you get out yourself."

"That ain't as easy as it sounds."

"I know it ain't, but with God, it's possible."

She turned angry again as she realized he'd been lying about what he wanted with Colt. "If there's one thing I can't abide, it's a liar! Get out! Out!"

He went willingly and closed the door behind him. He heard what must have been her shoe strike the door. He had his information. He was more than happy to get away from here all things considered, but he didn't get away as quickly as he hoped when he saw Camille drinking down brandy and flirting with some miscreant downstairs.

It grated on him. Everyone knew a mother's state of mind had a bearing on the child's health. If she were to become frightened or angry, both rampant emotions in such an environment, who knew how the child would turn out?

"You shouldn't be down here," he said interrupting them, his voice tight with anger.

She reddened mostly with anger. "That's none of your affair. Go home."

"It is my affair and you know why."

She repeated again, "Go home."

The man beside her had already lost patience. He was equal in height to Kid but much wider in girth. By the looks of him, he'd been in many a bar fight and his ham-sized fists were aching and ready to pummel someone, namely him. "I don't like it when my fun gets interrupted. I'm going to take it back out of your hide." He proved his words by moving closer.

Kid wouldn't wave a gun even though it would be much easier and quicker with women present unless he absolutely had to. Instead, he picked up a nearby chair, using it like a shield and sword by turns.

The bull of a man grew more and more enraged and managed to rip a leg off the chair and get a hit into Kid's arm with his oversized fist. It hurt like the dickens. Pain flashed down his arm almost rendering it useless, but it gave him the vigor he needed and speed, at least, was on his side. Furniture was overturned and bottles were broken during the ruckus.

The giant of a man fell at last with a thud and then Kid turned to walk away, thinking his assailant had had enough, but while his back was turned, the man picked up one of the broken bottles by the neck and got to his feet stumbling toward Kid with deadly intent.

"Kid!" Camille screamed.

He turned and sidestepped just in time. It was just enough to keep the jagged bottle from raining down over his head. He received only a glancing cut above the eye, the bulk of the broken bottle hitting empty air. This time he showed no mercy and was sure that the man was out cold before walking away.

His only thought as blood trickled into his eye was that Ruth wouldn't be happy about the cut.

"You want me to take care of that for you?" Camille asked.

"No, but I sure could use some whisky."

She smiled as if she'd caught a glimpse of the old Kid at last and ordered him the requested drink. "On me," she said.

Instead of drinking it though, he soaked his handkerchief into the cup. Then splashed what hadn't soaked in onto the wound. It stung, but he'd seen enough of the result of infections at Ruth's revivals and he was eager to clean it.

That out of the way, he asked, "Can't you keep out of here until your time is up? Running a saloon is hard work with the ruffians that darken the door every night, who knows what could happen, and it's even more dangerous to be alone with a man. As owner, you ain't forced into doing this. Put whoever you had in charge while you were away in charge again and manage from a distance."

"But it's good for business to be seen, and it's my livelihood. I cannot put my life on hold because I'm with child, not even for a childless couple."

"I can understand that and you're right, you don't owe Ruth and me anything, but you do owe it to the baby you carry. You're his mother even if only for a few months. Do right by him and see that he is born as he should be."

"Don't order me around or you just may never see this child," she bit back.

His temper flared again in response and he clenched his sore hands and looked hard at her before walking out.


	16. Chapter 16

In the hotel room, Ruth was hunting down some verses that contained a lot of simple, repeat words for Lydia tomorrow to fill her full of confidence. So deep into it she was that she smelled Kid before she heard or saw him.

She reprimanded herself for it, but for one moment, she had feared that he had fallen back into drinking as she caught the sickening whiff of whiskey, a marshy smell that turned Ruth's stomach.

Her eyes quickly caught sight of the handkerchief that was practically crimson but the bleeding had mostly been staunched. "You're bleeding," she said, jumping out of her chair and running over to him.

"Head wounds always look worse than they are."

"Sit," she commanded.

He did and she used her own clean handkerchief dipped in just plain water to wipe the blood from his skin and make doubly sure the wound was clean. Then she used a strip of cloth she had ready for just such emergencies and wrapped it around his head.

When she was finished, she said, "You look like an Indian now. Just need a feather or two to stick in there and call it macaroni."

He attempted a weak smile.

"You want to tell me how you got that cut?"

He'd been hoping she wouldn't ask. "From a bottle. Got in a little argument with a man there."

"Looks like a big argument to me. I'm sure you didn't provoke it though. That's what I hate about folks drowning themselves in cups over there. It never leads to good. I'd like to see that man. I'd give him a talking to he wouldn't forget anytime soon."

His smile was bigger than his last try. "I'm sure you would, but I think I got my message across well enough without words." Sobering, he said, "I have to go to Jefferson City to find the imposter."

He was afraid to have her come with him. This boy may have had no history of violence, but men and boys alike got desperate when jail time or worse loomed in front of them. On the other hand, he was half afraid to leave her here with the scandal she was facing in St. Louis.

"I have work to do here," she answered, making the decision for him.

"I'll only be gone a week at the most, 5 days if I'm lucky."

"I'll be here."

"I need a promise from you. Promise me you won't try to go see Camille or go into any of those saloons or brothels while I'm away. I think my cut is proof enough of the danger there."

"If it'll give you peace of mind, I promise, but I got to walk Lydia to and from our lessons. I know she's more used to it than I am, but she's still just a little girl."

"I knew you'd say that and the only protection you're going to carry is your Bible, am I right?"

"It's all the protection I need. Seems to me we've had this conversation before though."

"We have," he grumbled. "Make sure you pay attention to your surroundings at least. If you see something unusual, get out of there as fast as you can and make sure it's always daylight when you're there."

"I will," she assured him.

He stood up and split the money he had with her. "I don't want to waste any time. I'm going to Jefferson City today. The sooner I go, the sooner I can get back."

"The day's more than half over and you look a little sore from your brawl. You're moving kind of funny too."

"I am a little sore," he admitted. His arm especially still pained him.

"Get a good night's sleep then," she admonished. She unbuttoned his shirt and he watched her hands, mesmerized by them. His shirt off, she could see the red mark on his arm where a bruise would form. Her finger ran across it with a feather light touch. "Does it hurt?"

"Just a bit and my back aches like the devil."

She led him to the bed where she proceeded to knead his back muscles with him lying prostrate on the mattress. It felt good in more ways than one. "Okay, you've convinced me," he said, the words coming out as more of a moan.

sss

Ruth was browsing the store for a primer and Bible for Lydia the next morning. Kid had already left for Jefferson City. It was an extravagance to be sure, but she knew he would agree that it was an expense that was worth it. The Lord wouldn't let them go hungry.

She saw 2 ladies with their heads together, whispering and sending pointed looks her way. It didn't take a clairvoyant to figure out what they were talking about. It was also clear that they didn't have the nerve to say whatever it was they had to say to her face.

She had half a mind to confront them, but she decided to ignore it instead and took the books up to the storekeeper.

Obviously he recognized her too because he frowned and said, "I can't sell you these."

"What do you mean you can't sell me the books?" she asked, the annoyance showing in her voice.

"I refuse to take your ill-gotten gains. Your money is dirty," he replied loftily.

She gave a sigh of frustration but set them down. "I thought they were overpriced anyway. You might want to do some housekeeping though and I'm not talking about the store but your soul."

She was muttering to herself for a good long while after that. Why did folks always want to stir up drama? Why could they just love people as they were faults and all? The sad thing was that sometimes the most judgmental people were those that considered themselves to be "religious" people, but they had strayed far from Christ's example and scripture.

His wasn't the only store in St. Louis that refused to sell to her, which was sad considering what she was trying to buy, a Bible. Were they determined there was no help for the lost or the sinner? After about a half hour, some sweet old lady sold her both the books she needed behind her husband's back.

Ruth had the awful feeling that she was being stared at in an unfriendly manner as she walked down the street, a paranoia that was natural after the treatment she had just received. She was going to get Lydia, which would only serve to validate their false opinions, but right now she didn't care. There was someone who needed her help; they could think what they liked.


	17. Chapter 17

Camille was simply brushing her hair in her room when the pain struck. She doubled over with intense cramping and a sudden and large amount of blood seeped thought the thin fabric of her skirt. She knew too well what that meant, having induced theses symptoms artificially before, but this time she wasn't the cause of it.

Tears fell and they weren't just for this baby but for all the babies she had lost, children that might have been and now never would. She couldn't remember the last time she had cried. She'd been so dead to her emotions for so long. Now it was like a dam bursting and she couldn't ebb the flow as much as she wanted to.

She should be happy she tried to tell herself. After all, had she really wanted to carry the baby full term and lose her figure? Some women didn't even survive childbirth or the infant didn't. Pregnancy was a waste of time, for her anyway.

The crying abetting, she thought of Kid Cole and Sister Ruth. They would never believe that she hasn't lost the baby on purpose, especially after her last statement to Kid.

"I guess I shouldn't have expected much considering I'm a practicing harlot, but it didn't matter to You that one of Your own was going to mother my bastard child. You are an unforgiving god as unforgiving as the people that serve You. It had no say in the sin that created it. Why am I even bothering? You only hear the prayer of the righteous and sometimes not even then, isn't that so?"

A fresh batch of hot tears fell. Like the words of Solomon, everything suddenly felt meaningless. What did her life mean? What had she accomplished in her 29 years? Nothing. Who cared about her? Nobody. It was all meaningless.

sss

Ruth had told the cook that she was schooling Lydia when she introduced them to each other, who had then insisted they wait while she sent the kitchen maid to her nearby house to get and lend them a slate board and chalk that had belonged to her now grown daughter.

Up in the room, Lydia practically trembled with excitement as she took a seat beside Sister Ruth. She wrote a letter on the slate and asked Lydia, "Do you know this letter?"

Lydia studied the letter with the hook on the bottom and a fancy loop at the top. "I "

"That's right and I is also a word. The kind of I you use when talking about yourself."

"Really? Is reading really that easy then?"

"Mostly and you've got a good start being able to tell one letter from another."

She wrote the words: will, for, am, and. They went over them until she had memorized them, which didn't take very long. Ruth opened the Bible to Psalms and pointed to a particular verse. "You're going to help me read this."

Lydia read the words she knew and Ruth read the rest, "I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made."

Lydia's face broke into a smile that made it worth it all when they were finished. "I really can learn to read the Bible, can't I?"

"You can. I went out and got you this Bible for your very own because I know that you can."

She touched the Bible's leather cover with awe; few things in her short life had ever truly belonged to her. "Who is the I in the verse? Everybody?"

"You bet. Can't anything God made not be wonderful." She flipped in her Bible to John and read her the story of how his disciples had asked whose sin had caused a certain man to be born blind. Jesus told them he was born this way so that the works of God could be revealed in him. "You see where the world sees a person who is less than whole or a sinful person, God sees a person that can be used to His glory no matter his faults or weaknesses and is loved more than you can possibly imagine. All we have to do is let Him."

She nodded slowly.

Ruth put down the Bible and picked up the primer instead, giving Lydia a chance to soak that knowledge in for a moment. "You ready to try reading some more letters?" she asked when she'd opened up the new book.

This time she nodded eagerly.

"I'll point, you say the letter and I'll read the words."

"A In Adam's Fall  
We sinned all.  
B Thy Life to Mend  
This Book Attend.  
C The Cat doth play  
And after slay.  
D A Dog will bite  
A Thief at night.  
E An Eagle's flight  
Is Out of sight.  
F The Idle Fool  
Is Whipt at School."

Ruth only had to help her with E out of the 6 letters, but she stopped so as not to overwhelm her on her first day.

"What does it mean in Adam's fall we sinned all?" Lydia asked.

"It means that I ain't good and neither are you."

"And neither is my ma," she said simply.

"That's right. Not nobody. The person you imagine to the best person you can imagine, their righteousness is but filthy rags. They are as much sinners as the man that gets hung for his crimes."

This was news to Lydia. She had thought there was good people and then there was bad people and that's all there was to it. "So how does anybody get to heaven or mend their life like that poem says? Reading the book like it says?"

"The Good Book or the Bible, yes. It's a start. It's how we know what God has to say to us. He tells us how we can be saved and live for Him in it."

Lydia saw the sun in the sky and knew it was getting close to the lunch hour when her ma would be up. "I got to be getting back," she said before Ruth could explain more. "Ma checked up on me yesterday to make sure I was around. She's still madder than a wet hen about me bringing you two into her room."

"I understand. It's enough for one day anyway."

Lydia gave a short chuckle. "I don't think I'm an idle fool, but if that's what they do at school, whip you, I'm awful glad I didn't go."

She put an arm around her and laughed. "Won't nobody get whipped here and you're right you ain't no idle fool. Sorry I was so late coming to get you, but I ran into a little trouble trying to get the books. I'll pick you up right after breakfast though tomorrow." She handed Lydia the books to carry.

"You mean I get to take these home?"

"Of course you do. I got them for you."

Lydia set the books down to wrap her in a tight hug, which she gladly returned before they set off for the street no little girl should have ever had to see much less live on.

Camille watched Ruth and Lydia walking through grimy glass. She really should have someone wash the windows but most customers didn't care one way or the other and it really was a perfect metaphor for the state of her life.

She had removed all evidence of her miscarriage, but her womb felt so empty. She felt empty. Then inspiration hit. Maybe there was nothing she could do for the lost baby, but maybe there was something she could do for Lydia.


	18. Chapter 18

The capital of Missouri was much smaller than St Louis. Jefferson City was a smattering of buildings: a hotel, a general store, and a handful of other buildings. The town would be doing well if it had more than a 100 people. If his impersonator really was here, it'd be like hunting for an elephant in a barn and he knew just the barn this elephant would be hanging out.

It took him no time at all to find the town's only saloon and as luck would have it, a boy that matched Colt Phillips' description to a tee stumbled out, having clearly been imbibing. Capturing him couldn't have been much easier unless he came with hands and feet already tied and an apple in his mouth.

Just as Kid drew his gun, he hit the ground hard. The tackle sent his recently healed aches and pains from the fight in St. Louis aching all over again.

It was hard to miss his six foot plus frame being tackled to the ground and recognition passed on the imposter's face as he took in Kid's gun and the man himself. Even in his drunken state, Colt realized at once how close he'd come to getting caught and he took off in a graceless but effective run.

"Let me up," he barked to the man who had him pinned down on the dusty street.

"And lose 250 dollars? I don't think so." The man was strong. Whatever he did for a living had left him with ox like strength. He removed his own belt to use to tie Kid's hands behind his back.

"The one you want is escaping," Kid tried to tell him.

"Nice try, but you match the description on the poster to the letter. You saying you ain't Kid Cole?"

Kid tried harder to break loose but only received a hard bump to his noggin that warned against the wisdom of trying to escape physically. It took a good 15 minutes to convince the man he was Kid Cole, but he wasn't the stagecoach robber. The only thing that convinced him at the last was to go to the stagecoach station where the couple that ran it confirmed that they had indeed received a letter from their boss warning them that the man they sought was not Kid Cole after all, but a different man and that if Kid Cole were to show up with a prisoner in tow to give them all the help he needed to bring him to Franklin.

"I—I—I'm so sorry, Mr. Cole," the man stuttered as he removed the belt at once. "I—it was an honest mistake."

Kid's mouth tightened into a grim line of annoyance. The man's apology was just wasting more precious time. "Forget it," he mumbled before heading to pursue his true quarry.

He was not happy to see the overcast skies had given way to rain; the rain was washing out any tracks, making the dirt into mud and the trail cold. A quick search through Jefferson City confirmed the boy had lit out of town sure enough. He did work out that Colt had headed out on horseback in an easterly direction.

Kid's only hope of finding him was that maybe he'd decided to run back to St. Louis like a scared rabbit, thinking it'd be easier to hide in the larger population. Maybe he'd luck out and overtake him on the way if that's where he was going.

Kid cursed as he got back up on Horse. He had been right within his grasp. This was almost a completely wasted trip.

"Blast those posters! The devil take them all," he grumbled. He was glad he'd left Ruth in St. Louis, knowing she wouldn't let the words slide without comment, but how did that Edgar fellow, the owner of the stage company, expect him to do his job if he didn't ensure the posters were taken down and new ones put up? He would earn every penny of the reward money that was for sure, but earn it he would.

sss

Like Lydia had told Sister Ruth, her ma came to check on her after the lunch that was her mother's breakfast. There was nowhere to hide the books. There was barely room for the bed, so they were setting in plain sight on the foot of the bed.

"You back to book learning?" she inquired, looking at her as if she were up to bedevilment of some sort. "I thought you were done with that nonsense?"

"It ain't nonsense."

"You talking back to me, girl?"

"No, ma'am," Lydia answered her right away.

"I didn't think so."

Her ma picked up the books and flipped through them as if she were interested, but Lydia knew better and wished for the neglect again that while not a comforting feeling at least made her invisible in instances like these.

Lydia cringed as her mother ripped pages out of the primer and let them flutter carelessly to the floor. Fortunately not too many pages were lost before she threw both books unceremoniously to the ground. If there'd been a fireplace, that's probably where they'd have ended up. That was one small comfort at least that they weren't totally lost.

"Let me get this through your thick head," her ma said, "you're nobody and all the book smarts in the world ain't going to change that."

"Sister Ruth thinks I'm somebody," Lydia mumbled eyes on the ground and face red.

"She don't want you. You're her little charity case, her good deed to make herself feel good and better than the rest of us. You can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear."

"What if she could? What if I can talk her into letting me go with her and starting over fresh further out west where people don't know me?"

"You ungrateful brat," she said, giving a ringing slap to her daughter's cheek. "And leave your poor ma here? Is that it?"

"You could go with us," Lydia said brightening. "People wouldn't know you out there either. You could find you a husband."

She laughed loudly and unpleasantly. "Stupid girl. You don't think I've been proposed to over the years? I have and it's too late anyway, so you can get that out of your head right now. Face reality. It's time you grew up."

Her ma slammed the thin door, cracking it more than it already was and Lydia threw herself on her bed, tears blurring her vision.

Why did all of her plans seem to go awry? Was she doomed to live here forever? She didn't like the way Joe, the brothel's owner had been eying her of late. Some still, small voice told her that she had to escape this place and she had to escape it soon.


	19. Chapter 19

Ruth was on her knees when Kid came into the room. She had felt the strong urge to pray and to pray hard for Camille and Lydia. She didn't know why exactly, but the Lord had laid it on her heart to do so, so she'd obeyed without question.

She looked up and could tell by his stormy look that Jefferson City had been a bust. Judging from the dirty and torn clothes, bug bites, and the weary way he carried his body he hadn't had an easy time of it on the trail either.

Before she could even open her mouth to ask him how it had went, he said quickly and firmly, "I don't want to talk about it right now. How's the teaching going?"

Respecting his wishes, she answered, "Wonderful. She's doing very well. She's a bright girl."

"And how's the revival going?"

"Not so well. I could count the number of folks that attended yesterday on one hand. That news article scared folks off good. Just cause it's in print, people believe it, I suppose."

"I feared as much. Maybe it's time to shake the dust of this town from our feet and get a move on. We can come back for Camille's baby."

She shook her head. "I don't think so. I think there are things left to accomplish here. For one thing, I want to check on Lydia. See if we can't talk to her mother again and get her to let us take her. Surely she can see the wisdom in letting her have a better life. What mother wouldn't want that for her child? I'm of a mind to take her in myself. I've grown very attached to her."

His expression softened but he said unyieldingly, "You can't take in every deserving child as much as you might want to, but there ain't nothing wrong with taking her in until she has a more suitable home."

"I know I can't, but that doesn't keep me from wanting to."

He wrapped his arms around her, something his arms had been aching to do for days now. He didn't know how he'd ever gotten along without her. "Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

She grinned up at him and said impishly, "Yeah, but I don't mind hearing it again."

sss

Sister Ruth had pasted the pages back in the primer so that it almost looked as good as new and now when her ma came in she sat on the books, a trick that had been working thus far. Lydia repeated the letter poem she'd been taught over and over in her head to help her remember all the letter names. Once she had them down pat, they were going to work on sounds. She was getting closer and closer to unlocking the mystery of reading.

She heard a familiar French accent interrupt her study and she hurried to the top of the stairs, knowing from experience just where to position herself to avoid being seen.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Joe was asking Camille.

"I want Lydia," she said, coming right out with it.

"Florine's little monster? Why? You want her for your own?" His smile was terrible with his blackening teeth making it all the more horrible. "Untried girls are worth a pretty penny, but then you know that."

Camille was used to repulsive men, but Joe could give them all a run for their money. "What does it matter to you why I want her? Just as long as I pay for her. What's your price?"

"Maybe I want her for myself. Been thinking about using her, making her start to earn her keep. My youngest girl is only 15 and I have a hunch she'll keep lining my pockets long after her first time." He laughed at Camille's facial expression. "Don't look so shocked. As a fellow owner of a whorehouse, you know as well as I do there are all kinds of perversions to exploit. This just happens to be one of them."

"But a child, Joe?" she said unable to hide her disgust. "Isn't that against the law? If it's not, it should be."

"Aww," he mocked, "I didn't know you'd gone and gotten soft. Did the sun bake your head on your little trip out of town? The law doesn't care. 10 is a perfectly acceptable age. If she was younger than that or from a respectable family, it might be a problem, but that's only if the officials care and you and I know they don't. They'd rather pretend this street didn't exist at all or they visit it themselves. So what are you going to do with her, raise her into a respectable madame like yourself?"

"Laugh all you want, but I'm serious. What will you sell her for? Or do you have that right? What about her mother?"

"Her mother belongs to me. She signed a contract. It stands to reason the daughter belongs to me too. After all, it's my roof and my food she's been eating for the past 10 years."

"So?" she asked impatiently.

"Maybe we can work something out, but you'll have to find some way to make it up to me," he said suggestively. "She's worth her weight in gold."

"Quit beating around the bush. What is it you want exactly?"

He gestured to the backroom. "Follow me and we'll discuss the terms in more detail."

Lydia's stomach flip-flopped at the thought of her unknown future, wishing and yet not wishing she could hear what those terms would be. She was being bartered over like a piece of cheese. Why would she want to go from one brothel to another? Camille had given her no indication that she liked her, so what were her plans for her if they did come to an agreement and even worse, what were Joe's plans if they didn't? She shuddered to think.


	20. Chapter 20

As Ruth and Kid walked up the street, Lydia and Camille walked down it.

"Camille, Lydia," Kid said, a greeting and a question at the same time.

"Is something wrong?" Ruth asked.

Lydia, who held her 2 books, the sum of her belongings, spoke up. "Camille talked Joe into letting me go with her."

"Is Joe your father?" Ruth asked.

Lydia hung her head in shame. "I don't know who my father is."

"What about your ma?" Ruth asked. "What'd she say about it?"

Lydia shrugged. "I told her I was leaving, but she didn't say much." Lydia acted indifferent, but Ruth could tell she cared. "Can I go with Sister Ruth and Kid Cole?" she asked, turning to Camille and hope suddenly shining in her features.

For a short moment, hurt flashed in Camille's eyes. "Of course, you can. I don't own you. I freed you is all. You can make your own choices now."

Lydia moved to stand in between Ruth and Kid.

That apparently settled, Kid broached another subject. "I need to speak to the lady I spoke to last time, to see if he came skulking back here after Jefferson City."

"I can't help you," Camille said.

"Why?" Kid asked.

"Because she's not my girl anymore. The saloon's under new ownership."

"Why?' Kid asked again.

"Because I sold it."

"Why?" Kid was aware he was beginning to sound like a parrot, but he couldn't help it; he was baffled by the news.

"That's none of your business," was her sharp reply.

"Joe took it in exchange for me," Lydia said, understanding the situation at once. Wonder was in her expression that Camille would do that for her.

"Is that true?" Kid asked.

She gave a clipped nod.

"Where you going to go?" Ruth asked Camille gently. "You clearly don't have a home now if you sold your place."

"Somewhere. Girls like me always land on their feet," Camille said, still full of pride though she didn't have a penny to her name now.

"That may be, but you have to think of your baby," Kid said.

"There is no baby anymore," she said, her face and voice masked to reveal no emotion.

Condemnation appeared on Kid's face like she knew it would. Could she blame him? She wouldn't believe she'd lost it unintentionally if she'd been in his shoes, not after everything she'd said. She looked away and her eyes fell on Ruth, who was looking at her sympathetically. Did she see past the mask to her broken spirit?

"Come with us. We'll set you up in the hotel, at least until our finances run out," Ruth said.

"Why?" it was her turn to ask. She didn't understand such kindness. She had no baby to give now.

Ruth ignored Kid frowning at her because of the invitation. "Because God loves you."

Tears threatened to run again. When had she become such a weepy mess, she thought to herself? And who had ever loved her? Still, she accepted with relief because she had no other plans.

Ruth looked to the rickety building that was thankfully Lydia's home no longer. "There's someone I want to talk to. Go to the back door at the hotel. Tell, Cook, I sent you and she'll see that you're taken care of until we get there." Ruth knew they would have no trouble as the big woman had quickly grown fond of Lydia.

"Wait, will you give Ma this?" Lydia asked, guessing at once who it was Sister Ruth wanted to see.

Ruth took the Bible, her eyes growing watery.

"You're not upset, are you? I know you gave it to me, but I think Ma needs it more."

"No, I'm not upset. It's yours to give and I think it's one of the sweetest things I've ever heard of. I'd be honored to pass it on."

The bartender ignored them as they moved upstairs, recognizing them from last time, and Joe must have been off getting acquainted with his new property.

They knocked on the door, there was a garbled answer they took for permission to enter.

Florine was looking pasty and frail and older than she must have been, although seeing them brought color to her cheeks. "You got what you wanted, my daughter. I know it was Camille who walked out of here with her, but I know it was you that orchestrated it somehow."

"You're mistaken, ma'am," Kid said. "We had no idea. But deep down, you know it's what's best for her."

She didn't respond to that.

"It's not too late for you either. You can leave too. We'll find a way," Ruth said.

She laughed bitterly. "You really have no idea, do you? It is too late for me. For one, I'm dying."

"Dying?" Ruth repeated.

"It happens all the time," she said with false bravado. "You seen many painted ladies in their 40s or even 30s? They drink or laudanum themselves to death, a violent brawl kills them, they have a botched abortion, or they find a way out themselves and I don't mean they walk out of here. Or like me, they just catch something that kills them. My turn's come."

"It doesn't have to be that way. You can be saved."

"You mean with your faith healing? I don't hold with that stuff. Your kind always says sin comes with a price, well, now it's time now to pay with my life."

"But Jesus Christ has paid with His life. Even if you don't receive physical healing, He will heal your soul."

"Stop. I don't want to hear it. Also, I don't want Lydia to know what I told you. Truth is I've never been much a mother to her; I know that. But she'll feel responsible for me and I don't want that."

"What'll happen to you?" Ruth asked.

"Long as I can keep working, I'll have food and shelter. Joe don't care if I pass anything on." She cackled. "Kind of nice really. Joe's afraid to even look at me. I got me some peace and quiet when it ain't working hours."

"And when you can't work anymore?" Ruth asked.

"Well, by then I'll be really sick. Joe will throw me out on the street, having no use for me anymore, and I won't linger long."

Nothing short of a miracle would persuade her she could take a different course; that was easy to see. Ruth held out Lydia's Bible. "Lydia wanted you to have this."

"Stupid girl. I can't read even if I wanted to read that trash and I don't." Despite her words, she gingerly placed the book on her bedstand. She hesitated for a moment before pulling open the drawer on it. She pulled out an old piece of paper and handed it to Ruth to read. "If you want to crusade for women of the night, maybe you should understand that it's a little more difficult then just finding Jesus and walking away."

_For the sum of 10 dollars paid into my hands on this day, I Florine, promise to prostitute my body for the term of 8 years. If in that time I am sick, one day to two weeks will be added onto my contract. If more than one, an additional month shall be added. If I run away, or escape, I am to be held as a slave for life. Signed X._ Ruth gasped at the terms and why would anyone agree to this, particularly the last term?

As if reading her mind, Florine answered, "I couldn't read. Even if I had understood it all and what it meant at the time of signing, all I knew was that I had no family or skills and it was this or starve."

Florine's mind drifted to the past for a moment. "Even so, I tried running away when I got pregnant with Lydia. I think he makes it hard on us girls, hoping we'll choose to run. I didn't make it obviously. Tell Lydia I'm glad she's learning to read after all, so no one can ever trick her this way. I'm no fool. I know Joe didn't keep her around out of the goodness of his heart. If she'd been a boy, he would've given her to an orphanage."

Looking at the gift from her daughter, she said, "I was only thinking of myself, wanting somebody to care when I was gone. I didn't know how to tell her I cared. I lost that ability, but I did and I do. I'm truly glad she made it out before it was too late, but I don't want to see you or her in here again."

"There's always Someone who cares," Ruth said as she handed her the contract back. "I'll pray for you to see that."

The alcohol or laudanum, or maybe a combination of both, had taken effect and the woman had drifted into unconsciousness.

"There but for the grace of God go I," Ruth quoted, meaning it. A different circumstance of birth or event and she could have been among their number.

"Folks are so busy being high and mighty; they don't realize that women sometimes have no choice about ending up as a prostitute. It's a slavery all of its own. Sometimes like Florine literally."

She nodded in agreement. "I know I've learned some things."

Out in the hall, the source of his recent troubles was leaving one of the rooms. He hadn't even bothered putting on his shirt or shoes. He was creeping with a shirt draped over his forearm and shoes in the other hand. He must have gotten sight of Kid through the window and was trying to make another break for it.

Kid's gun was drawn faster than seemed humanly possible. "Take another step and it'll be your last," he warned.


	21. Chapter 21

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Cole. Please, don't shoot me." It was more a whimper than a plea. He really was a youth.

"So you know who I am then," he practically growled, "and that you're not him?"

"It was just a lark and a fast way to make money. I'm sorry it was your name I used, but I had no idea you were anywhere in the area. Honest."

"Crime is not just a lark and there are easier, less hazardous ways to make money."

"I swear I won't ever use your name again."

"But you'll use someone else's? I have to turn you in."

"Please, can't you just give me a warning? I won't use someone else's name. You'll never hear of me again."

"It's not my place to issue warnings, but you're young. We'll see what we can't work out with the stage company's owner. Get dressed. I ain't escorting you around town half dressed."

He blanched. "Out here in the hall? There's a lady present," he said, referring to Ruth.

"Which is another reason I'm asking you to get dressed. You didn't have no concern for modesty when you came out dressed like this in the first place."

Nonetheless, Ruth turned around, giving him a chance to pull his shoes and shirt on.

"He's decent," Kid informed her.

Clothes taken care of, they left the dilapidated brothel.

"Where's your family?" Ruth asked.

"Don't have any," Colt answered.

"That explains a lot. Don't make it right though. You go to church?" she asked.

The boy looked at her like she was crazy. After all, she'd just caught him sneaking away from a prostitute's room and he'd admitted to his crimes. "No, ma'am. Not since I went with my grandmother when I was little."

"Well, there's your problem right there. Life's hard enough without trying to do it on your own. You got to walk with God."

Kid hid an amused smile at the lecture he was getting from Ruth. She only stopped when she spotted a familiar face coming in the other direction.

"Oh no, here comes my writer friend," Ruth said. "I hope he's not back for the next thrilling part to his fiction story."

"He better not be," Kid said in no mood to have patience with the man.

Instead of a frown, the journalist now flashed a smile. He was looking at Kid, not Ruth. "One of my informants just told me you caught the man robbing stagecoaches, Mr. Cole. I can make your name famous, and I don't mean infamous but have Kid Cole be synonymous with hero. I just have to have the story of you catching the thief in your own words. What do you say to that?"

Kid took a step closer in a way that made the man take a step back. "I think that your first story better be an apology to my wife for printing lies about her in the paper."

He swallowed thickly. "I think that can be arranged."

"If you've printed an article to my satisfaction, we'll talk when I get back."

"I'll go get started on it right away," he said, before scurrying off.

"That should take care of that problem," Kid told her.

"Newspaper men are funny birds," Ruth said with a shake of her head. "Or at least, he is. Whatever sells papers, regardless of the truth."

sss

Kid took Colt to Franklin alone.

Ruth went to the hotel room and found Lydia was already ready for bed.

"No point in getting another room until Kid gets back," Ruth said to Camille. "You two can have the bed. I'll just pile some blankets on the floor."

She and Camille took their turns getting ready. Lydia's deep breathing indicated she was asleep when Camille finally climbed onto her side of the bed.

Ruth ventured a question she'd been wondering about as she settled onto the floor. "How'd you get into the business?"

"My purity was taken when I was 17 by a supposed friend of the family. What choice did I have about the path my life took after that? No man would have me. That was also the first time I got in the family way and my family disowned me for it."

"That's terrible. You were taken by force. Didn't that matter to them?"

"No, damaged goods is damaged goods."

Ruth shook her head. She couldn't understand that kind of thinking. Where men got by with crimes like that but a woman with no say-so in the matter was forever tainted.

"But I embraced it. I decided I was going to be the best I could be at it and I was. I found out French women were more desirable, so I faked a French accent and gave myself a French name. Anything I could do to get ahead, I did. I worked my way to madam and I was saving up for a fancy, classy place with crystal chandeliers and thick carpet. At least now, I have enough put back to begin a new life away from St. Louis. The whole business sickens me now anyway. So don't feel sorry for me."

Ruth did feel sorry for her though. Mostly because she was missing out on the Savior's love.

"You think I had something to do with losing the last baby, don't you?" Camille asked.

"I think whether you did or not, you're grieving the loss."

"I am and all the other losses too. My sins weren't enough for me. I had to add murderer to the list. God taking this one was just. Why should I be able to make up for it in some small way?"

Lydia was awake or she'd never really been asleep to begin with. She sat up in bed and put a comforting hand on Camille's shoulder, which broke the fallen woman down and she began to weep bitterly.

"They're with Jesus in heaven and if you let Jesus be your friend and make God your father, you'll get to meet them in heaven cause He loves us no matter what bad things we done. Sister Ruth taught me that."

Camille cried harder. "It can't be that simple."

"It can be," Lydia said. "It's so simple even children like me can understand."

Something in Lydia's manner and words got to Camille and Ruth watched as Lydia lead Camille to Christ.

"'And a little child shall lead them'," Ruth said softly to herself. Ruth was touched by Lydia's deep compassion, not a common thing in one of her tender years. Maybe she understood better than anybody not asking for the cards you were dealt.

Camille went to the corner chair to pray or think over what had just happened to her.

"You'll make a good revivalist, Sister Lydia," Ruth said.

Lydia glowed, not with self-satisfaction but with the happiness that came from seeing a soul saved.

sss

A week later found Kid and Colt in Franklin and in Edgar's office.

"The idea is too crazy to even contemplate," Edgar argued.

"But what better person to advise you on how you can better protect your stagecoaches than a former robber of them?"

Colt looked too afraid to say anything. He was a shade or two too white and he trembled. The gallows were a hairbreadth away.

Edgar was debating in his mind. He wanted retribution, but the temptation to keep it from happening was strong as well. "Can you shoot Mr. Phillips?" he asked at last.

"Yes, sir." He paled even more as he realized that Edgar might be trying to get his charges upped to killer. "I haven't ever shot anything but animals though," he added.

"How would you like to ride with my drivers? Your job would be to protect important passengers or cargo, to stay alert for any signs of trouble. Think you could handle it?"

Relief slipped into Colt's limbs so fast, he staggered. "I sure could and I'll give back what I haven't spent."

"Oh, you can bank on that," Edgar said. "And what you have spent will be docked out of your pay."

"You're lucky," Kid said to Colt, removing his bonds. "Mercy's not always so quick to be had out here or anywhere."

"I know, thank you, Mr. Hunter, and thank you, Mr. Cole. Tell your wife I'm going to start attending church right away."

"She'll be glad to hear it." He turned to Edgar. "Well, I brought you the culprit and a new worker to boot. Where's the money?"

Edgar grumbled but handed over the rest of the reward money. It had all worked out well, but it had been an exhausting few weeks. There has to be an easier way to make money, Kid said to himself as he thought about the additional week it would take to get back to St. Louis. He was more than used to traveling by now, but it could get wearing sometimes.


	22. Chapter 22

Kid, Ruth, Camille, and Lydia came out of the hotel dressed in black clothing. The crowd of people desiring healing was back, having discovered how they used the back door, and thinking foolishly that a touch would be all it took. The newspaper man had kept his promise and now her reputation was as shining as it had ever been. She almost regretted the retraction if this was the result.

Rather than trying to press through the crowd like last time, Ruth tried addressing them instead. "Go home," she said, her voice carrying over their murmurings. "It's to Him you must turn your eyes and ask for healing of spirit and body. I am but a woman proclaiming the message of the Lord and as long as your focus is on me and not the Great Physician you will never be healed. The Lord is coming. Make yourselves right before Him before it comes upon you like a thief in the night. Go read your Bibles."

The crowd noticeably thinned after that but a few lingered and followed them to the grave site, refusing to be dissuaded. However, when they saw that the funeral was for an outcast, they hung back as if the dead woman's unrighteousness could infect them if they got too close.

Florine couldn't be buried in the city's cemetery because of her occupation, so she was buried just outside the city limits as shunned and separated from "respectable" folks in death as she was in life. And yet, Ruth didn't see how the problem could be ignored forever. She'd existed, the problem existed, and pretending it didn't wasn't going to change anything. She could preach another sermon to the crowd right now on that, but she didn't and turned her attention where it should be.

Kid had collected smooth, round stones to form a cross and mark the site. Lydia had specifically said she didn't want to see her mother's body, so Kid had also taken care of burying the body beforehand. Only freshly turned earth spoke of the reality that Florine was gone.

Lydia, Kid, Ruth, and Camille were the sole mourners as Joe refused to let any of the girls attend. Ruth supposed they should be grateful that he had informed them at all of her demise, so they could come claim the body. Besides, Florine had been more fond of the bottle than any of her colleagues, generally keeping to herself, so it was likely none would've shown if he had.

John Meacham performed the service as Ruth wanted to be able to offer emotional support to Lydia, although she seemed to be keeping a stiff upper lip or maybe it was simply because she didn't know the woman being buried as well as she would've liked; she bore the title Ma, but she was little more than a stranger to the girl. Camille and Lydia had become close over the past couple of weeks and Camille stood on Lydia's other side.

Reverend Meacham focused little on her life but spoke passages of comfort and of the daughter she'd given life to.

"Do you think Ma went to heaven?" Lydia asked Ruth when the service was over.

"I know that many folks finally change their hearts with eternity before them and I think that above all it's in God's perfect and loving hands."

That answer seemed to satisfy her.

"Did you know when your Ma was carrying you that she tried to run away and start a new life with you, but it just didn't work out for her?"

"Really?" Lydia asked brightening. She looked at the grave and realized for the first time in her young life that maybe her mother had loved in her own way.

Camille walked up to the grave with Lydia where the girl laid the wild sunflowers she had picked.

"We're going to miss having you at our church Sundays," John said to Ruth. "I know you only came 3 times, but that's enough to miss you. I imagine I'll hear your name pop up every now and then though. You're doing good work."

"So are you. I'm sure I'll be hearing about your work too," she returned.

"Godspeed, Sister Ruth."

"Thank you and God be with you, Reverend. Thank you for doing this. I know it meant a lot to Lydia."

After the funeral, they all prepared to leave St. Louis. Kid got the wagon and horses ready and Ruth, Camille, and Lydia packed up their belongings. Camille then took Lydia over to Joe's to see if they could get the Bible back while Ruth purchased paint and added to the sign on the canvas: 'The Lord is Coming'.

"How's it look?" Ruth asked Kid, the letters gleaming from the wet paint. "Think it'll remind people that it's not Sister Ruth's Revival as much as it is the Lord's?"

"If it doesn't, you will," he told her.

Camille and Lydia joined them. Lydia had her Bible and Ruth gave her the leftover paint as a gift. Then she asked Camille, "Decided where you're going?"

"Independence. If that doesn't work out, it's an easy place to decide where I want to go from there, so many trails I can take further west."

Plans firmly in place, Ruth turned her attention to Lydia. "Have you decided who you're going to go with?"

They'd offered her the option of choosing for herself a couple of days ago.

"It'd be fun traveling with you all, but I think I want to try having a home, a real home for awhile."

Camille was smiling. "You want to go purchase our tickets on the next stagecoach heading to Independence?"

"I've never been in a stagecoach before," she said with obvious delight as she took the needed money from Camille and skipped off after giving Ruth and Kid goodbye hugs.

"Can I talk to Kid?" Camille asked Ruth.

"Sure." She seemed surprised for a moment but her face softened into a smile and she climbed up onto the wagon seat to give them some privacy.

"Camille—" Kid began.

"Sally," she interrupted.

"What?" Kid asked, not understanding.

"That was my name before it all happened and I guess it will be again."

He smiled. "Sally then. That's a nice name."

"It's a plain name, but it suits me. It'll take some getting use to though; I've been Camille for so long."

"You know I never apologized. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? I'm the one that tried to drive a wedge between you and your wife, who is a wonderful lady by the way."

"I meant about before. I know we were friends and all, but I didn't treat you like a true lady even with all my polite ways. It's a terrible occupation and if it weren't for men like I was, it wouldn't go on."

"I accept your apology. Do you accept mine?"

"I do. Like the Bible says, we're new creatures. The old us has passed away."

"Then let's start over completely. I'm Sally Aiken." She offered an outstretched hand.

He gave her hand a gentle, brief shake. "I'm Kid Cole."

Camille went to join Lydia while Kid climbed beside Ruth.

Kid gave a slap of the reins to get them moving. "I'm sorry that you had to run into a woman I used to know. I just hope you know that no woman past, present, or future can hold a candle to you. I appreciate you being so nice too. I'm sure it helped in her decision to follow Jesus. I don't know that I could be as gracious if I were to run into a man you used to know in that sense."

"I'm not as much a saint as you think I am. I've had plenty of unkind thoughts about her."

"But it doesn't keep you from being kind. That's why I love you so much." He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

Kid noticed out of the corner of his eye that a crowd of people was following the moving wagon. It could be they were giving a sendoff but more than likely they were still hoping for last chance to be healed.

"Now I know why John the Baptist preached out in the wilderness," Ruth kidded.

"The wilderness sounds good to me right about now."

_Present Day_

Sister Ruth was intently penning a message on her lap desk.

"That's for the crazy woman, ain't it?" Kid surmised. "She didn't want to listen to you. What makes you think she's going to read your letter?"

"I don't know that she will, but without my presence to distract her, maybe she will. I want to help her and if it wasn't for my name being so well-known, I probably could."

"Not your fault. You didn't ask for the fame. Neither did I, but our names will probably outlive us. We'll be legends long after we're dead and buried and most of the legend will be fiction. Listen to this." He held a dime novel in his hand that he'd seen and bought this morning in the general store, starring him. He read a part of it out loud for her.

"_The lynch mob encircled him. Suddenly there was a cloud of smoke and the sound of shots being fired. When the smoke cleared, 22 people lay dead on the ground, but he was still standing. He always kept a gun hidden for just such purposes. _

_He leaped onto a black horse, his owner no longer having need of it in the afterlife. _

_Redheaded Lil had watched it all unfold from the sidewalk, impressed with his manliness and accuracy. As he galloped by, he took her hand pulled her onto the ebony beast and they rode off into the sunset._

_Virginia City wouldn't soon forget the name Kid Cole._

Not exactly the way I want to be remembered."

Ruth had tried hard to restrain her mirth during the read, knowing that Kid was irritated with it, but the laughter now burst forth. "I'm not laughing at you," she apologized when she got her laughter under control. "I'm laughing at that drivel."

"You wouldn't be laughing if it was about you."

"I might as long as they weren't blasphemous about God, but few of us are remembered the way we want to be remembered. Don't forget what 1 Peter says. Men's flesh and glory wither and fall like grass, but the word of the Lord endures forever. It's not about us. It's about living for God, being a light to draw people away from the darkness. That's all that will matter in the end."

"You're right. My identity is found in Christ; it's most certainly not found in a dime novel." He finally cracked a grin. "You want me to deliver your letter and then ride off into the sunset with me?"

She smiled back. "I'd ride off anywhere with you."

The End


End file.
